Hostile Environment
by Callisto5
Summary: A very different player enters the Centre environment with an agenda all his own
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:**  I own none of the original characters or the basic storyline; they belong to others.  There is no infringement on my part and I'm not making any money off this.  All situations and details in this story are completely a figment of my imagination.

**_Author's note:_**_  This story is a bit different from my others; please give me some feedback.  Let me know how you like it._

_Email:  PennG436@msn.com  Spoilers:  IOTH  Timeline:  Several months after IOTH  Rating PG-13.  Category:  Drama/Adventure_

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**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter I**

By Callisto

_The Bonaventure Hotel_

_Los Angeles, CA _

The bright sunlight sizzled its friendly fury on the transplant weary landscape.  Waves of heat shimmered in the near distance as he entered the grand edifice with a small shiver of anticipation.  This was the third conference headed and sponsored by the expansive and charismatic environmentalist, Gareth Trask.  Jarod had attended each seminar in the various cities where they were presented.  Each time the Pretender saw the man, he was impressed anew.  The indefatigableness and drive of the man was awesome and gratifying at the same time.  In the past 6 years, since his successful escape and continued elusion from capture by the Centre, Jarod had seen so much of the unseemly underbelly of humanity; it was a relief to finally see someone trying as he was to do something simple, beneficial and helpful. 

Jarod surreptitiously entered the darkened, packed ballroom and folded himself effortlessly into one of the uncomfortable conference chairs and settled in as much as possible, waiting to be drawn in again by the magnetism and enthusiasm of the conference's principal speaker.  The speaker was vehemently expressing his opinion of how carelessly the government and by tacit agreement from their silence, the public including the audience were allowing the environment to continue to be assaulted by big business and neglect.

Jarod sat in rapt attention to what Trask was saying, studying for the third time the gruesome slide-show pictures of grotesquely twisted fish and befouled coastline in a before and after format.  The speaker showed slides of how a locally caught fish was supposed to look when it was healthy and the coastline years before heavy industry moved in and destroyed it. 

Once the lights were turned on again, the conventioneers blinked at the brightness and were informed that now would be a good time for a break.  Refreshments were being offered in the next room.  As though guided by a slow motion wave, the sound of murmured voices started up as the attendees began standing to stretch their cramped muscles and started walking towards the exits for a few moments of fresh air and room to roam.  Jarod remained seated waiting for the heaviest wave of people to file out.  He was just about to head to the door when he felt a hand on his forearm.  He abruptly stopped and turned to face a balding, intense-looking man with an oddly friendly face.

"Sir, if you don't mind.  Mr. Trask would like to have a word with you," he said in a mildly commanding tone.

Jarod looked at the man for a moment before nodding his consent warily.  He had heard that particular tone many times before.  It was the same tone Sydney would use on him when the psychiatrist wanted him to work on a sim he knew Jarod found distinctly distasteful.  Jarod followed the man towards the front of the auditorium and around the back of the stage where a large crowd of people had gathered around the main speaker.  Jarod's guide nodded to one of the security men who whispered something in Trask's ear.  The mini conference was immediately concluded and Trask turned on his heel and headed towards what appeared to be a dressing room.  Jarod and his guide followed and they were beckoned to enter after the guide knocked and announced their presence. 

Jarod entered the surprisingly large room and out of habit took in the surroundings and made a mental note that his guide appeared to have every intention of remaining just outside the door.  His eyes settled on his host and Jarod took the opportunity of studying the man.  Trask was about his own height but his frame was on a larger scale.  His blonde hair was stylishly cut to set off the electric energy of his deep blue eyes.  The man was powerfully built and carried it very well.  Curiously, Jarod could tell Trask had derived his honed musculature from a gym and a regimented routine.  There was a slickness about him that could have only come from a well thought out program. 

In stark contrast, Jarod was tall and almost lanky in appearance.  The Centre had redoubled its efforts to capture him and being ever vigilant he continued to thwart their clumsy but persistent attempts.  Still, being on the run forced him back into long, well established habits, such as:  Wheat grass and tomato mush breakfasts, soy milkshake lunches and high protein dinners.  This coupled with a few months stint as a stevedore on Seattle's teaming docks gave him a musculature most men strive for but rarely realize can't be obtained from the steel and chrome enclosure of a gym.  Jarod's natural strength had multiplied without increasing his girth and as a result he was deceptively strong.  His recently shorn locks returned his face to its prior boyish charm, defying cynic hardened guesses at his true age. 

"Thank you for coming back during the break to see me, I truly appreciate it," Trask said as he regarded Jarod frankly.  He too had taken Jarod's measure and was carefully watching his reactions.  

"It's an honor to meet you.  I have been hoping for such an opportunity.  Your speeches are truly inspiring, so much so that I wanted to see if there was possibly an opening on your staff," Jarod stated hopefully. 

His answer was a relieved laugh as his host sat down heavily and put his hand through his hair.  Looking up at Jarod he said with a slight smile on his face and in his voice, "To be quite frank, I noticed you the first time you showed up at one of my seminars three months ago in Seattle.  When you showed up again in Portland, I was a little surprised, now to find you here again, I was positively worried." 

Jarod's face cleared and he returned the relieved smile.  "I apologize for any alarm I must have caused.  I'm not stalking you, I was just intrigued by your first seminar and I read a few articles about you, your company and the work that you have been doing.  My name is Jarod Muir." 

"It's good to meet you.  So I take it since you've been following me on my quixotic mission to save the environment, that you approve of my efforts?"

"Yes, very much so.  What attracted me to your seminars was an article I read in a Seattle newspaper that called you a modern day Onisius.  I made up my mind right then and there to see if that was an exaggeration.  After the second seminar I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to be of assistance," Jarod replied sincerely. 

"Well, I doubt I would classify myself with Onisius but I definitely wouldn't mind having someone on my staff who knows who Onisisus is.  What sort of job are you interested in?  What were you doing before you came here?"

"Oh, nothing in particular.  I'm open to just about anything but I am very handy with computers," Jarod responded with a smile.  

"'Nothing in particular?'  What are you, some kind of rich boy with an unlimited trust fund and too much time on his hands?" Trask asked a little roughly. 

"No.  I was between jobs when I read your article.  I used to be a financial analyst for the Wall Street firm Crichton/Frances but I became disgusted with all the shady dealings, so I left.  At your seminar I liked what I heard and was prepared to approach you by writing a letter," Jarod said in a measured tone.  He purposely avoided mentioning what else his research into Trask had yielded, which included details about the man's current business crisis.  

"Good at computers, huh?  Well, I could use someone able to decipher the mess my books were left in.  The IRS is all over my back and the Seattle DA is chomping at the bit at the idea that someone with my reputation is really a dirty thief," Trask said bitterly. 

"I would be happy to look at what you have; you never know, a fresh set of eyes may turn up something you missed," Jarod commented invitingly. 

Trask stared at Jarod's open, friendly face and made a snap decision.  "Alright, you have a job.  Only you will have to put up with me macro-managing your progress.  This whole IRS probe blind-sided me, I don't want that to ever happen to me again." 

"Understandable.  So when do I start?" 

In the now emptied conference room, a lone figure emerged from the shadows and stealthfully walked behind the stage area where the dressing rooms and unused equipment were waiting.  At the sound of voices and a few tense moments waiting for the sound of a particular voice, the figure stepped deeper into the shadows and appeared to be hunkering down in anticipation of a long wait for his quarry to emerge.

_Trask Enterprises Offices_

_Seattle, WA_

Several weeks after meeting Gareth Trask and being invited as a member of his staff, Jarod thought he had learned a great deal about the man.  He was driven, relentless and generous—almost to a fault.  Gareth possessed a gregarious personality, was sympathic, empathetic and had a sharp, intelligent mind.  

Jarod leaned back in his chair and away from the scattered mess of financial ledgers and the computer monitor filled with details of the financial health of Trask Enterprises.  Taking a brief look around to reassure himself that he was still alone, Jarod retrieved a small red notebook he kept with him at all times.  It contained the newspaper articles he told Gareth about the first day he met him.  It also contained a slip of paper with a number written in the hand of Catherine Parker.  It was an item he had retrieved from one of her safe deposit boxes.  He had kept this discovery from her daughter until he could uncover its significance.  He had tracked Gareth down using the clues supplied by the scrap of paper which had the name of an institution pre-printed on the top. 

Jarod looked up from the notebook and stared into the middle distance completely absorbed in his own thoughts.  He had finally tracked down one of the children Catherine Parker had saved and who had unknowingly escaped the Centre's recent purge of a few years ago.  He was determined to help this man.  Jarod felt in helping Gareth he was helping the woman who gave her life trying to help others.

The sound of a light footfall recalled his attention and he swiftly rose from his seat and turned to face his visitor.  The woman had taken only one step across the threshold when Jarod's sudden reaction to her presence startled her.  She drew back in alarm and appeared on the verge of running away in fear. 

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little jumpy.  Did I startle you?" he asked gently.  The persistently frightened look in the woman's face was beginning to worry him.  When he still didn't receive an answer, he probed a bit further by asking, "My name is Jarod, are you alright?" 

"Y-yes, thank you.  I was looking for my husband, would you know where I can find him?" she inquired hesitantly. 

"I'm not sure.  What is your husband's name?"  

"Oh, right.  I'm so used to knowing everyone on his staff.  I'm Elena Trask, my husband told me to meet him here at 7:30, did he leave already?" she asked with just the smallest note of dread in her voice. 

"It's good to meet you Mrs. Trask.  No, I think Gareth is downstairs with a few stragglers from the sales staff.  Would you like to wait here until he returns?" he inquired invitingly. 

"I don't want to disturb you.  Gareth mentioned you and that you had become quite invaluable to the firm," she said relaxing slightly to Jarod's friendly manner.

"I'm glad he thinks so.  Please come in, you're not disturbing me, I need a break from all these numbers," he said still trying to encourage her to stay.  He watched her enter the room from the darkness of the doorway and was pleasantly surprised to see an extremely comely woman.  She had light brown hair which complemented her intriguing turquoise-colored eyes and high cheekbones.  She was slightly overweight but her figure, instead made her seem rather voluptuous.  Her designer clothing was conservative but very tasteful without being frumpy.  Jarod smiled gently at the woman and before he could draw her into a conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Gareth.

"Elena, there you are, I was wondering when you would show up.  Jarod, have you met my wife?" Gareth asked brusquely. 

Wondering about the sharpness of Gareth's tone, Jarod tilted his head slightly to one side and answered, "Yes, we just introduced ourselves.  She came up here looking for you when she ran into me." 

"I see.  Well, Honey, we have to go, the dinner starts at 8:30 and we shouldn't be late," Gareth said absently to his wife.

Elena quickly headed for the exit, then shyly turned to Jarod and murmured softly that she was pleased to have met him.  Jarod looked in Gareth's expectant eyes then turned to Elena and repeated her sentiments.  After the couple had left, Jarod stood in the middle of the room wondering what the heck was going on between his new boss and his wife.

A few days later, Jarod had gone through what had seemed like reams of financial records both computerized and on hard copy.  He had discovered where Gareth's problem was located and what he found wasn't pleasant.  He found that several Trask Enterprises employees were cleverly stealing from the company's coffers.  They had set themselves up as charitable organizations and in some cases as companies specializing in the cleanup of hazardous materials.  Trask Enterprises would hire the company to cleanup an abandoned site that had been put on the backburner by the State.  What was supposed to happen was the company was to perform the cleanup then present Trask with the bill.  Trask Enterprises who has a contract with the State would then be paid at a pre-arranged rate which usually was 30% higher than what the company billed Trask.  Trask would then pocket the profit and the expediter's fee that went along with the State's remittance.  

The agreement between Trask Enterprises and the State was legal, unfortunately the fraud came into play on several levels:  select employees of Trask Enterprises would turn around and invest the money obtained from Trask by their bogus cleanup company, along with the profit and expediter's fee, always turning an extremely healthy profit and with the help, undoubtedly, of some insider trading, then divvy up their spoils. 

The end result caught the attention of not only vigilant environmental groups expecting to see a clean coastline only to find an untouched filthy mess but due to their vociferous complaints, the State's auditors began to look into the situation.  To make matters worse, the obvious insider trading caught the attention of the SEC who drew the more powerful IRS into the situation.  Trask was now beleaguered with a barrage of questions and investigations he was ill prepared to answer or withstand.         

The sting operation Jarod had decided on would be conducted with the help of the SEC and an undercover agent of the State posing as an inspector, who arrives at the bogus company's offices for a tour of their facilities and equipment.   

It took another couple of months to set up the sting and to get all the agencies and agents coordinated.  Once the trap was set, a potential site was chosen which just happened to be situated directly adjacent to a stinking, foul site that was supposed to have been cleaned but had been left unmolested.

Agent Jensen, with the State Environmental Agency, was the undercover officer who showed up at the appointed time at the hastily assembled office of the bogus company called Enviro-Cleanse.  The agent was shown new equipment that had been rented from other legitimate companies and given a tour of the slick offices on the 10 floor of a modern looking office building.  The undercover agent was genuinely impressed with the fine attention to details the thieves had put into their operation. 

Immediately after the successful tour, the money trail began and the necessary paperwork and audit trails were started the minute the State remitted payment for yet another befouled lake of industrial sludge left to fester untouched.  The money was successfully traced the minute it left the hands of the State comptroller.  In less than two weeks the money had made its rounds and multiplied itself several times over by the time it came for the thieves to share the profits.  

Jarod, as in all his pretends, was there to watch the results.  Only this time, he let the State's agent be the one whom the thieves saw as Onisius coming to swoop down on their evil deeds.  After the events in Carthis, Jarod no longer had a taste in leaving too many trails for the Centre to follow.  He didn't want any newspaper reports recounting tales of how a mysterious stranger helped save the day.  Instead he used his down time alone with Trask Enterprises' computers to continue the search for his mother.  He was becoming more settled in his new position and wanted to remain a while longer in order to touch base with his father and the rest of his rediscovered family. 


	2. Hostile Environment Chapter 2 One prete...

**_Disclaimer:  _**Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements.

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**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 2**

By Callisto

_Ivar's restaurant_

_Seattle, WA_

Jarod was enjoying a leisurely walk along the fashionable waterfront after a short visit with some of his stevedore friends whom he met nearby.  The weather was being extremely temperate and from the crowds on the streets, most of the residents had been lured outside.  He was walking slowly when he briefly glanced into the wide windows of a trendy restaurant and spotted a familiar face.  From the startled expression on her face, she had seen him also. 

An easy smile formed on Jarod's lips as he quickly changed directions and entered the restaurant.  At one of the tables facing the water, Jarod spotted his quarry and navigated a circuitous route through the sea of diners.  As he approached the table he had a chance to get a look at the other person at the table.

"Mrs. Trask, what a pleasure it is to see you.  Do you dine here often?" Jarod asked in a friendly voice while trying to ignore the predatory gaze Elena's dining partner was giving him.  

"Actually, no.  We chose this spot on the spur of the moment.  Jarod, may I introduce Karen Saunders?  Karen, this is Jarod Muir, he is the man I was telling you about who helped save the company and kept Gareth out of jail." 

"What a shame!"  Karen said with heavy sarcasm as she smiled hungrily at Jarod.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Muir.  Please join us."

Jarod was still curious about the strange exchange between his boss and his wife.  He accepted the invitation, half regretting the pull of his curiosity due in large part to the overly interested regard Mrs. Trask's friend was paying him. 

Noticing a slight change in Jarod's demeanor, Elena was in turn curious about Jarod's reticence.  He must know how handsome he was to women but instead of pandering to Karen's obvious admiration, he seemed a bit put off by it.  Elena filed this tidbit of information away in her mind. 

"Forgive me but why is it a shame I helped to keep Gareth Trask out of prison?" he asked curiously. 

"Karen has never been what anyone would call a 'fan' of my husband's.  Quite the opposite in fact, it's because we have been friends since before my marriage to Gareth that I'm so tolerant with her," Elena said with a laugh in her voice. 

"She laughs it off every time," Karen whispered softly to herself.  Then almost literally shaking herself, she turned her attentions back on Jarod's attractive features.  "So, where has Elena been hiding you, Mr. Muir?" 

"Please, call me Jarod and she hasn't been hiding me any where.  I've been working with Gareth for the last couple of months.  May I ask why you dislike him?  So far he seems to be a driven person and what he has been trying to do for the environment is very laudable," Jarod replied politely. 

Unaccountably at ease, Elena was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the developing situation in front of her.  Karen was openly interested in this gorgeous man who didn't return or bask in the attention.  Karen wasn't exactly a woman men ignored either and today she was looking particularly striking.  Her friend's long, blonde hair was fashionably cut straight.  Her figure was attractively slim and her emerald green eyes were softly inquisitive, heralding the sharply intelligent mind behind them. 

"I can see from the insouciant look on your face that you accept people the way they present themselves.  Don't get me wrong; I'm not suffering from a bout of prejudice—that would be positively ridiculous.  It's the things he does when he thinks no one is looking, the things he has gotten away with in the past and continues to get away with that irritates me and works me up into a fine lather of hatred," she replied pleasantly.  She carefully watched Jarod's face as she gave her vague explanation. 

Jarod's interest deepened but he kept his expression neutral.  He had finished his pretend however it was obvious from Karen's hints that his pretend wasn't exactly done with him.

"That sounds like it would be an interesting story to hear but perhaps we should wait for another time to have this discussion," Jarod said with careful sincerity.  He saw no reason to alienate either woman. 

"I look forward to having that discussion with you.  Unfortunately, I must get back to work.  Mr. Muir—Jarod, it has been a pleasure.  Elena, call me tonight," Karen said gently to her friend as she rose from her seat.  Reflexively, Jarod rose with her.  Karen gave him a genuine smile and forcing her eyes to stay on his face she took her leave.    

A few moments after Karen left, Jarod commented softly, "You're friend is very beautiful and intriguing." 

Elena's discomfort had started to return when Jarod made this statement and despite herself she found herself relaxing again.  With a soft chuckle she replied, "You really think so?  From your reaction to her, I was beginning to think that you were either very happily married or not interested in women.  I don't think Karen is used to men treating her so—nonchalantly."

Jarod turned his eyes on Elena and smiled charmingly making it clear that he found her equally attractive.   Elena knew her discomfort level should be rising but it wasn't, instead she was enjoying this tête-à-tête.

"Tell me something about yourself, Jarod.  Are you married?  What brought you to this corner of the world?"

His smile faltered a bit before he responded, "No. I'm not married but I would like to have a family of my own someday." 

"Someone with your obvious gifts would be quite a catch.  I can't imagine you having any difficulties finding a suitable candidate."

"And I suppose you have the perfect person in mind for me?" he asked with a highly amused smile. 

"I just may have a certain blonde friend of mine in mind," she answered with a laugh.  They spent another hour chatting and getting to know each other.  Elena insisted on Jarod ordering some food and she sat with him, watching this beautiful man who seemed completely unaware of his extraordinary good looks finish his lunch.  They were talking so companionably and absorbed in their conversation that they were unaware of two sets of eyes watching them attentively.  

In the same window where Jarod had spotted Elena over an hour ago, Gareth also found his wife talking to his new financial executive.  Gareth stood stock still taking in the scene and had just convinced himself there was nothing to them having lunch together when he noticed his wife placing her hand over Jarod's.  The world suddenly went black for a moment as all of Gareth's focus honed in on the slight physical contact the two were sharing.

Inside, the topic of conversation turned to Gareth.  Jarod mentioned that the firm was once again on solid financial ground and he had hoped to have time to explore more of Gareth's numerous environmental as well as some of his humanitarian projects.  Elena's brow furrowed at this information and in her own earnestness to make sure Jarod understood her, she reached out and briefly covered one of his hands with her own, stopping him in mid-sentence and commanding all his attention. 

"Please Jarod, listen to me.  Gareth is a very generous and determined man but he is also very spoiled.  He has rarely had anyone around him who could measure up to his own intellectual prowess, until now.  This lack of challenge has made him…um, I guess arrogant for want of a better word.  When you found the source of his financial troubles so quickly, it was a blow to him.  All I'm trying to say is to tread softly around him," she advised solemnly as she stared into his eyes.

"You don't seem to me to be an intellectual slouch," Jarod said cautiously.  He felt he was close to finding out the reason for Karen's intense dislike of Gareth. 

"I'm just a woman, in his mind I don't really count.  Although there have been times when even I have felt the ramifications of his need to constantly be the most intelligent person in the room," she said softly.  She was about to continue when she looked up to find her husband heading towards their table.  Jarod saw her stiffen and a fleeting expression of fear appear apparition-like in her eyes.  When he looked up, Gareth had just reached their table.  

"Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Gareth said with forced lightness in his voice.

"No, of course not.  Jarod found me here dining with Karen and he agreed to join us," Elena explained hastily.  She quickly continued, "Karen returned to work a few minutes ago, you just missed her." 

"My loss.  Darling, there are some things I would like to go over with you concerning the party next week," Gareth said smoothly.  Then turning to Jarod he said, "Please excuse us." 

Elena rose and leaving her seat she started to walk away with her husband when she abruptly stopped and returned to the table.  It was as she was leaning over to retrieve her purse when Jarod looked over at her and the material of her blouse fell slightly open, revealing an ugly healing bruise on her chest.  Jarod remained silent and watched solemnly as she and her husband left the restaurant.  

During his numerous pretends as a doctor, Jarod had seen almost every variety of bruise in every stage of healing.  The bruise on Elena's chest was a few days old and had almost faded away.  The paleness of her skin made it still visible and hinted at the severity of the injury.  Now he suspected the reason for Karen's dislike but unwilling to jump to hasty conclusions, Jarod decided some more investigation was in order.  If it hadn't been for Elena's warning and the strange exchange between husband and wife the first time he met Elena, he probably never would have guessed.  Jarod decided that the sooner he had that little chat with Karen the better, as he resolved to extend his pretend.

Another set of eyes watched the entire scene with growing interest and amusement.  This situation was turning out to be far more entertaining than one of those convoluted, soft porn, daytime dramas.  

Thirty minutes later, when he had returned to the office, Jarod found Gareth sitting in his office.  Jarod had already decided on the best way to handle the situation and said as he walked into the room, "Gareth, I'm glad you're here.  I realized once you left the restaurant how the situation might have looked.  I hope I haven't done anything to offend you by having lunch with Mrs. Trask." 

Trask looked up and watched the other man cautiously.  He had been struggling to keep his rising jealousy in check.  "I'm not offended, I was just surprised to see you two together."  Gareth decided to keep to himself the knowledge of seeing them holding hands.  He felt that Jarod still had his uses but the minute the other man outlived his usefulness to the company, Gareth was determined to explain a few salient facts to his over-confident financial advisor. 

Jarod saw the struggles and the calming resolution that came into Gareth's eyes.  It was like analyzing a page from a book that had been left open for anyone to read.  He decided to find Karen's phone number the second he was alone and to contact her before the week was out.

_Canlis restaurant_

_Seattle, WA_

A few days later, Jarod was enjoying the dinner reservation he had made for himself and Karen Saunders.  She was dressed in much the same manner as the day he met her however, her manner was more subtle than before.

"You certainly can issue a provocative invitation, Jarod," she said softly as he held her chair politely.  His invitation came with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a note stating he needed to speak with her regarding the welfare of their mutual friend.   

"I wanted to make sure you would show up.  There are a few questions I would like you to answer for me.  I would also like to continue the discussion we started the day we met," he replied concisely.

"So, I take it that Gareth can't help showing his true colors even to you.  It's amazing really, the man can't seem to help himself," she said with deep disgust. 

"I'm not quite sure what you mean.  I have noticed that he seems a bit jealous of his wife's friends but I would like to know the reason for your dislike," he said decisively.  

"Why?  What does it matter to you, what I think?" she asked abruptly.  

Jarod paused for a few moments, ostensibly to gather his thoughts.  "The day Elena introduced us, I stayed after you left and had lunch with her.  Gareth walked up to our table and insisted that Elena leave with him.  When she leaned over, I noticed a healing bruise on her chest." 

Karen's jaw flexed and her eyes were burning with anger.  "That bastard has put his hands on her again," she stated vehemently.  "You see, whenever Gareth starts feeling insecure or uncertain, he decides to beat on Elena as a way to validate his manliness." 

"I was afraid it would be something like this," Jarod replied as he leaned back in his chair steepling his splayed fingers together under his chin.  

"You know someone who is a victim of domestic violence?" she asked curiously. 

"In a manner of speaking, I worked as an abuse hotline counselor once," he answered distractedly.  "How long has this been going on?" 

"Almost from the start.  Elena said at first he would only intimidate or push her around.  It's been in the past few years, after he started his environmental crusade, that he started actually punching her.  It's as if he were slowly getting her inured to the abuse.  Unfortunately, it worked.  She's an expert in hiding the bruises and she refuses to talk about it or seek help."

"Has Elena ever tried to leave him?  Has he threatened to kill her or himself if she does?" he asked earnestly.  

"Are you in love with Elena?  Is that why you have this sudden interest?" 

"No, but I have a strong distaste for bullies.  I tend to take it personally when someone picks on, or carelessly hurts another person because he believes they are too powerless or weak to prevent it.  Call it a pet peeve of mine," he answered with a dangerous smile. 

"Then I doubt it will come as a surprise to you that Elena isn't willing to leave him.  God help her but she still loves that miserable excuse for humanity.  I'm glad you're on Elena's side.  After what you did for Gareth, I was afraid that you were his man," she stated probingly. 

"I'm no one's 'man' but my own.  Tell me about their routine, I think it's about time the bully gets a taste of his own medicine," Jarod said with a conspiratorial grin.

"Look, I won't pretend that I haven't harbored thoughts of retaliation myself but everything I come up with doesn't solve the problem.  Trying to draw in the police is a waste of time.  If the victim isn't willing to cooperate and there are no visible marks or bruises or they aren't called in to investigate in the middle of an argument—forget it.  Gareth is too smart to actually hit her in public and Elena is in a state of denial.  She doesn't want to admit that she is a victim.  You would need some kind of proof of what he's doing to her without his knowledge, something like pictures, to get the cops involved."

"The victim's resistance is usually an issue but in this situation there is also Gareth's standing in the community which also complicates matters." 

"Something you helped solidify.  Now you're getting an idea of what we're up against," Karen said resignedly.  

"Someone once said, 'where there is a will there is a way'.  I'm a strong believer in that axiom," Jarod replied with a cheeky smirk.    


	3. Hostile Environment Proof

**Disclaimer:**  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements.

**_Author's note:_**_  In this section, a rape occurs.  I don't bother describing it in any detail, it was included for dramatic content and is no way meant to be gratuitous. _

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**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 3**

**By Callisto**

**_Trask Enterprises_**

**_Seattle, WA_**

A few days later, immediately after the lunch hour, Jarod was passing by the pleasantly appointed lunchroom when he heard snipits of a conversation which caused him to change direction.  He entered the room which would have been stark if it weren't for the long and comfortable-looking couch, several matching large lounge chairs and a fully stocked kitchen, complete with tables and appliances.  In a corner next to the payphone, Jarod spotted the two speakers he overheard.  He walked over to the cold drink vending machine and slid in a few coins to purchase some bottled water.  The other two looked at Jarod questioningly, wondering if they had been caught talking out of turn.  They suspended their conversation and stared at their supervisor's back.  Once Jarod had retrieved the water, he turned and walked to the door.  Instead of walking through, he pulled the door closed and gazed at his two colleagues. 

"I'm not sure if you realize this but anyone passing by could hear your conversation.  Now, I'm curious to know if you were doing this on purpose or were just being careless?"  He asked with a mildly disapproving air. 

"I apologize Mr. Muir.  I guess I was a bit too wrapped up in our discussion and didn't realize I had raised my voice.  And you're right, this isn't the appropriate place to discuss this topic," Remington, the administrative assistant Jarod shared with Gareth, admitted. 

Jarod nodded thoughtfully at the two men, staring at each for a few seconds before continuing.  "Well, it just so happens that I'm interested in what you were saying.  I met Mrs. Trask for the first time about a month ago and I couldn't help but notice she seemed very nervous around her husband.  Any ideas why?" 

"Aside from the fact the boss likes to beat the living crap out of her, no I haven't a clue," Benson, who had been talking to Remington, blurted out disgustedly.  Remington shot his friend a sharp look, urging the other man to shut up. 

Jarod caught the silent exchange and arranging his features into an expression first of shock then sorrow he replied, "I admire Gareth for all the good things he has been doing for the environment but beating on a woman is reprehensible.  I wish there was something that could be done to help Mrs. Trask." 

Jarod's chivalrous comment surprised both men.  They were under the impression, just as Karen, that Gareth commanded all his loyalty.  The other two men looked at him warily.  They knew their overheard comments could get them fired with prejudice and neither wanted to dig the hole they found themselves in any deeper.  Jarod understood their sudden reticence and to prod them into being more explicit, he said, "Maybe your right, Remington; there's nothing any of us can do to help her.  But standing by somehow doesn't seem right."  This was the point Benson had been trying to make with his friend when Jarod interrupted them.  

"My point exactly!" Benson exclaimed triumphantly.

"So, Genius, what's your plan?" Remington asked his friend with heavy sarcasm. 

For a few seconds, Jarod thought Remington was talking to him until he noticed the chastened expression on Benson's face.  "How long has this been going on?"  Jarod inquired, interrupting the budding argument.  

"It's been going on with increasing frequency for the past few years," Remington replied, his wariness lessening, as his former disgust with his employer's behavior resurfaced.  "Did you notice his knuckles this morning?  They were red and scraped up as if he had been punching someone.  That's a pattern with him.  It took me a while to catch on because I never see Mrs. Trask for several days when he comes to work with his hands in that condition."

"What made you believe the reason for the abrasions on his knuckles to be from beating his wife?"  Jarod asked with increasing curiosity.  

Warming to the subject and sensing they had just discovered a kindred spirit, Benson answered for this friend.  "Mrs. Trask is in charge of company publicity.  Whenever Mr. Trask comes in looking relaxed and at ease, she usually takes a few days off then comes into the office looking haggard and walking stiffly.  At first I thought she was lit but after comparing notes with Remington, we put two and two together." 

"'Lit' how?" Jarod asked suddenly confused.

Benson looked thoroughly bemused at Jarod when Remington clarified the slang.    "He means she acted like she was drunk but no one ever smelled alcohol on her breath and she didn't have the typical morning after symptoms of a headache or sensitivity to loud sounds that comes from a night of drinking too much."

"Oh, I see.  Yes, well thanks for telling me about what is going on around here.  I know I'm the new guy but you don't have to worry about this discussion going any further.  Only in the future, try not to have this type of discussion in front of an open door," Jarod advised with a troubled smile.  He then left the room deciding that he needed more tangible proof as a small germ of an idea on how to get it was forming in his mind.

For several days, Jarod continued to work and spy on the couple surreptitiously. In less than a week, he understood their routines and habits.  In two weeks, he had broken into the Trask residence, easily circumventing the alarm system every night and spied on the couple.  What he learned was distastefully depressing.  Dinner seemed to be the established time for Gareth to vent his wrath verbally on his wife.  He spoke with arrogant eruditeness; his every word expressing some form of animus towards his wife.  His face held a twisted look of sadistic pleasure as Elena's down turned gaze and silent acquiescence fed the small, greedy gnome of his ego.  Jarod's eyes narrowed at this display of cruelty and now he regretted having helped Gareth at all.

At the end of the workweek, Jarod took a late lunch when he knew both Gareth and Elena would be at the office.  Jarod arrived at their house wearing overalls with the logo of the local cable company embossed across the back.  The work van he rented looked convincing as he pulled up to the curb and walked confidently through the back yard of a neighbor who had a similar work schedule.  

He quickly gained entry and set to work placing small cameras discreetly around the living room and dining room.  He then wired the main camera seated under the top, decorative ledge of the dining room console giving a commanding view of the room.  Sound equipment had been distributed around the house, in almost every room along with a camera, excluding the bathrooms and bedroom.

Once he was done, Jarod returned to his work truck and activated the cameras.  Each one was working and well hidden to avoid casual discovery.  When he was finally satisfied with his efforts, Jarod left the neighborhood as anonymously as he entered it. 

It didn't take long for the cameras to record an ugly scene between husband and wife.  Late one evening, Jarod watched what his cameras had taped earlier while he was stuck in a brain storming meeting with managers from research and development—a meeting Gareth chose to leave in Jarod's capable hands since he left to go home early.  Jarod's horror turned into white hot fury as Gareth pushed, punched then raped his wife on their living room table as the result of an argument he started.  When Gareth was finished sexually assaulting his wife, he leaned over into her face and blamed her for forcing him to hurt her.  He then ordered his aching, silently sobbing spouse upstairs to clean herself up.  

Jarod checked to make sure his main tape and back up continued to record the now quiet house.  The time had now arrived for the second half of his plan to be implemented.  It was necessary for him to perform several calming exercises he developed to clear and sharpen his mind after watching the tape.          

**Trask Enterprises**

**Seattle, WA**

Two days later, Jarod arrived several minutes late to work in the morning.  He had been busy coordinating the part of his plan involving Karen to insure Elena would have a close friend nearby to assist her in picking up the pieces of her shattered life.  He hurried into his office with a distracted air, failing to notice the comically widened eyes and non-verbal signals from Remington.  Jarod walked into his office to retrieve a folder containing the financial prospectus research and development had asked for a couple nights before.

"It's about time you showed up.  I was beginning to think that you had decided on leaving without giving any notice," Gareth intoned sardonically.  He was looking particularly fit and radiant that morning.  Resplendent in his $15,000.00 suit and sporting a cocky, overly-confidant smirk, Jarod watched his employer's eyes and knew the man thought he had somehow gotten the upper hand over his brainier subordinate.  Jarod forced an anxious look onto his face to cover the anger growing inside when he noticed the item Gareth had in his hands.  The wave of self-disgust over having left a personal item behind in his desk was hastily pushed into the background of his mind.  

"I apologize.  There were matters of a personal nature that demanded my attention this morning.  May I ask why you have that in your hand?"  He asked nodding his head towards the photograph Gareth kept fondling.  "I thought I had locked that item in my desk." 

"Oh, you did.  I got bored waiting for you and started poking around.  However I assure you the drawer I found this in wasn't locked.  You must introduce me to your friend sometime.  She's quite a looker."  Gareth rose from Jarod's office chair with the self-satisfied smile rooted firmly on his face and walked around the desk.  "There is an update meeting tonight.  I need you to fill me in on the first meeting to bring me up to speed." 

"Of course.  Unfortunately, I will be unable to attend the update meeting.  I have already informed Mr. Bates and will give him the prospectus he needs for the meeting." 

Tapping Jarod on the chest with the picture.  "Cancel the date, I'm sure she won't mind waiting up for you," Gareth replied as his eyes and voice hardened.  "We have important issues to discuss—before and after the meeting." 

"Since you insist and I believe you should be aware of some disturbing scuttlebutt I've heard about you floating around the office," Jarod replied with a tiny smile, slipping the photo from Gareth's fingers. 

Gareth was aware of what the office gossips whispered about him.  They thought his propensity to vent his anger and frustrations on his wife as a weakness.  He had proven them wrong once and he would prove this insolent pretty boy wrong also.  "Then we're all set, see you later."  

Jarod watched Gareth walk away and leave the office.  Looking down at the photo in his hands, Jarod glanced at the surveillance photo he had taken of his personal huntress.  It had been taken several weeks ago while she was searching his prior lair, during a time when he had been experiencing his own particularly distressing moment of weakness.  The photo showed off the subject to her most beautiful advantage.  Had Gareth looked back he would have noticed the angry, predatory expression that readily slipped onto Jarod's face once he had finished his convincing bit of play acting.

Jarod walked over to his desk and dropping into an effortless squat stared at the faint striations a sharp edged blade made as a result of popping open the lock on his desk.  Remington walked into the office, momentarily confused that it appeared empty.  The noise of Jarod opening the tampered drawer drew Remington's attention. 

"Geez, man, I was trying to warn you about Trask being in here but you sped passed me without a glance.  What are you doing?"

"Tell me, do you know if Gareth carries a knife of any sort?  Perhaps a switchblade?" 

"Yeah, he carries a butterfly knife.  He likes to flick it open to impress his minions in the warehouse.  How did you know that?"

"The marks he left behind on this desk drawer had to have been made by a very sharp blade," Jarod said thoughtfully as he slowly stood upright.

"Judging by the way he plays with it, I would hazard to guess that he knows how to use it too.  Jarod be careful, he was fuming when he came in here looking for you.  He's a dangerous man to cross," Remington stated solemnly. 

Smiling his thanks at Remington's warning, Jarod answered, "I know a thing or two about how to take care of myself, especially with someone like Gareth."  Once Remington left his office, Jarod pulled open his middle desk drawer and realized the bait he had intended on setting out, had in fact been taken after all.  Gareth found the earring that Elena had left at Karen's house several weeks before.  When Karen handed over the earring a few days ago, the look of worried uncertainty darkened her eyes; he had asked for any personal item belonging to Elena that she had in her possession which Gareth would recognize. Jarod cursed himself for leaving the photo in his office but smiled when he thought of Gareth's reaction if he ever tried to tangle with that particular tigress. 

For the next few hours, Jarod placed a number of phone calls on his cell phone.  First he spoke to the Lieutenant in charge of domestic violence at Seattle's police department.  Then he had a quick chat with Nick, one of his stevedore friends, to insure that he would be free to show up at the agreed upon spot with the others.  He also coordinated his timing with another dock worker he befriended, named Kevin, to make sure his planned encounter would be video taped.  

When he was fairly certain that everything was in place, Jarod sat back in his chair and hurriedly glanced at his watch.  Matthews from the IRS, who assisted in the original sting operation, should have just received the data CD containing the evidence Jarod painstakingly gathered over the last few days.  Evidence so damaging that he suspected the government agency would drag its feet for several days before acting, since the end result would be a conviction culminating in a lengthy penitentiary sentence.  The bank accounts and new identity were set up and ready.  Several well established protocols in Gareth's personal finances had been subtly changed in such a manner that the effects wouldn't be felt until months later when his attorney's fees came due.  There were still several hours before his plan would begin.  Jarod pulled out his usual red notebook and shook his head sadly at the last newspaper articles he had included.  This was one clue he didn't want falling into the hands of the Centre.     

****

**_Canalis restaurant_**

**_Seattle, WA _**

****

Lunch turned out to be a subdued affair.  Karen confirmed that she had convinced Elena to spend the night with her since Gareth was expected to be at the office late into the night.  Jarod nodded thoughtfully and picked at his salad.  Karen noticing his distracted and depressed mood she looked at her companion carefully. 

"So, tell.  Who is she?"  Karen asked with a rueful smile.  

"I'm sorry, who are you talking about?"

"Her.  The girlfriend you're so pensive about.  The expression on your face seems to say the poor girl will wake up one day and wonder what the heck ever happened to inspire you to take a hike without a word and never come back.  

Smiling indulgently at her, Jarod leaned back in his chair and gazed amusedly at Karen.  "That's a something I could never imagine happening with Zoë.  We share something special that can't be easily encapsulated in just a few sentences."

"Ah, I get it.  You have one of those open relationships but she's not the one I'm talking about.  Your voice and demeanor changed entirely when you thought I was speaking of Zoë, so this gal must be someone else all together.  I'm a good listener if you need someone objective to talk to."  

"You're very observant.  I would have thought that level of scrutiny and insight to be limited to criminal profilers and psychiatrists," he replied with a light touch of haughtiness.  

Laughing easily, Karen held up her hands in mock surrender.  "Simmer down there, mister, no need to get defensive.  I was just trying to be a friend."

"Sorry, I tend to get a bit testy on some subjects," he replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

"She must be someone special, I'm sorry and congratulations." 

"Why congratulations?" 

"From the look on you face, it's obvious that she is someone worth loving.  You've found someone who is your ultimate match, a mate.  You understand and compliment each other in a way no one else can comprehend.  How's that for perception?" she asked with a poignant smirk.

"Not bad," he said staring at her thoughtfully.  "Okay, I'll bite, why 'sorry'?" 

Averting her eyes from his penetrating gaze, she took a long drink of water.  Setting the glass down gently and staring at the wet ring it left on the tablecloth she paused to gather her thoughts.  "I'm really guessing now but here goes.  She is either married or so encumbered that her situation has inspired your depression.  Confront her, try not to give up until your certain that's you're only option, then at least you'll be able to live with yourself when you finally walk away.  Burying your love while it's still alive tends to necrotize the rest of your emotions." 

A heavy silence followed her observations.  Jarod's eyes finally returned to his dinner companion and he immediately started going over her role in his plans for Gareth.  He refocused his thoughts on the problem at hand recalling the CD he had mailed with the details of the two accounts he had left unmolested for the IRS to find.  Accounts Gareth had used to funnel skimmed, untaxed company funds.  The charges wouldn't be elaborate, but would preoccupy Gareth long enough to give Elena the much needed time to sever ties to anything having to do with him.  Jarod gave Karen the name of the banker for Elena to contact once she felt stronger and was finally free from the tyranny of her husband's violent insecurities.     


	4. Hostile Environment Comeuppance

_Disclaimer:  I don't own the Pretender or the basic storyline from which this story draws its semblance of life.  TNT etc. does. _

**Author's note:  The quote used in this portion of the story was borrowed from a beautiful and insightful poem written by Oscar Wilde.**

Hostile Environment

**Chapter 4**

**By Callisto**

**_Trask Enterprises_**

**_Seattle, WA_**

The meeting was winding down after a number of issues were finally solved with viable resolutions.  Everyone around the table released a collective sigh of relief that the meeting was finally over.  The tension between Gareth and Jarod was thick and rife with unstated hostility.  Many of the long-time employees knew that Jarod's days in the company were numbered and would have been surprised to see him at work in the morning.  Everyone but Gareth regretted the expected loss of Jarod.  He had brought a stability, intelligence and balance to the management team.  The lower level employees liked his management style, his easygoing nature was perfectly suited to work with the diverse selection of personalities and garnered loyalty that didn't have to be brought or cajoled. 

Gareth was the first to rise from his seat to stretch; this was a signal to the others that they were free to leave.  Slowly the other manager's rose and each in their turn either patted Jarod on the back or shook his hand as they cast him a significant glance in grateful acknowledgement for putting their business in order.  Once they were alone, Jarod turned to Gareth and said, "I believe there are a number of things we need to discuss to clear the air.  How about a drive?  It's stuffy in here after being cooped up for so many hours." 

Gareth studied Jarod calculatingly.  He knew the other man was up to something but he felt confident that pretty-boy wouldn't pull anything serious on him.  Gareth prided himself on his ability to read people and instinctively knew Jarod wouldn't try anything impulsively.  Gareth felt very confident that he could handle himself quite well under almost any set circumstances this guy could dish out.  Mutely nodding his approbation, Gareth allowed Jarod to lead the way outside and to his car. 

****

**_North Harbor-near Terminal 25_**

**_Seattle, WA_**

****

Jarod smoothly brought the dark green Ford Taurus to a stop at the deserted terminal area and alighted from the car.  He stretched his cramped muscles and glancing at his companion, noticed that Gareth was standing next to the vehicle looking around nervously.  Jarod suddenly began to walk towards one of the large warehouses adjacent to the wharf as a small dangerous smile crept onto his face.  Jarod stopped unexpectedly and turned to face Gareth.

"I believe this will be the perfect place to have our discussion.  It's far enough away so no one from the company will accidentally overhear our conversation and it also provides an appropriate setting, don't you think?" Jarod asked quietly. 

"What is this, why did you drag me out in the middle of nowhere?  What's going on here?" Gareth asked nervously.  For once his confidence was beginning to falter. 

"From the smug expression on your face back at the office, I was under the impression that you possessed an unfair advantage.  Now, I realize this is your modus operendi, catching your prey at their weakest to insure your own supremacy but it's about time you were forced to prove yourself on a more level field.  Besides, your reputation as a dangerous man proceeds you, I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

As Jarod was talking, several large, muscular men appeared out of nowhere and quickly surrounded the two men.  Looking around, Gareth could only see one way out—the open maw of the warehouse with its massive stacks of crates and containers waiting to be loaded.  One of the men approached Gareth and roughly frisked him, relieving him of his butterfly knife. 

Noticing Gareth's sudden apprehension and his less than surreptitious glance at his only avenue of escape, Jarod taunted, "come now, you're supposed to be a tough guy.  Where is your courage when faced with someone your own size?"    

"What about them?" he asked, nodding at the twenty, well-muscled stevedores who had surrounded the pair. 

"Don't worry about them, they're here to insure you don't run away before I'm finished with you.  I can vouch for their characters, something anyone with an ounce of morality would find difficult to do for you.  They have agreed not to interfere—yet.  Some of them have assured me that you are a real man who is merely misunderstood and only beats on his wife for practice.  Well practice is over," Jarod sneered with quiet menace as he watched the man he had previously admired, squirm at the tone of his angry disgust.

Anger and understanding flooded Gareth's mind.  Unwisely, he allowed his anger to show as he confronted Jarod with his long pent-up frustration and jealousy.  "I don't know what you're talking about.  I've never hit my wife.  What has that bitch, Karen been telling you?" 

Jarod stood still and watched Gareth silently as though he were looking at something slimy and filthy that had managed to slither into his notice.

"I found Elena's earring in your desk drawer.  You've been screwing my wife behind my back.  That's why _I'm _out here and that's why I'm going to wipe this wharf with your insignificant carcass.  I don't care what your Neanderthal buddies do afterwards."

Gareth advanced on Jarod, who easily parried the openly telegraphed move and using _Kyusho-Jitsu_ techniques of pressure point fighting, caught his opponent and with his fingers splayed in a claw-like position, touched Gareth's back.  Gareth cried out in agony, as the pressure points and nerve clusters in his back were painfully and accurately pinched.  He stumbled forward several steps and remained doubled over for a few seconds, to recover.  In addition to telegraphing his moves, the expressions on Gareth's face also broadcasted his intentions.  Gareth saw his chance to finish the fight with a few decisive bone-breaking blows to effectively show this pretty-boy a thing or two and perhaps give him a permanent reminder of their fight.  

Jarod, ever the pretender, waited as patiently as a spider for his quarry to step into his trap.  As Gareth began to painfully recover from Jarod's counter strike, Jarod moved to Gareth's left and weaker side to test his ability.  Gareth seeing the gambit was relieved and came at Jarod with surprising strength and speed.  Jarod took the glancing blow Gareth delivered and struck him with another accurate blow paralyzing Gareth's left side.  Gareth's arm hung limply as he looked at his appendage with confused concern.  Jarod took advantage of Gareth's confusion and quickly moved in and pinching another nerve bundle under Gareth's other arm caused the man to bellow a suspiciously high octave scream.  Gareth sank to the ground in agony. 

"For the record, I have never slept with either Elena or Karen, for that matter.  I have on the other hand, been watching you.  I have on tape the night last week when you raped your own wife after beating her unmercifully and blaming her for your debased temper."  Gareth in blind anger rose up on his pain-racked right side and tried to ram his body into Jarod's who again easily parried the move and delivered a hook-punch causing Gareth to fall like a sack of potatoes.  Jarod walked up to one of his stevedore friends who handed him a cold glass of seawater.  Jarod threw the entire contents into his opponent's face, rousing him from unconsciousness. 

"Oh, yum, that's right lap it up.  That's wharf water and while as a rule it is usually vile, this water is special since it's from a site that was supposedly cleaned up by your company!" 

"Why are you doing this?  What did I ever do to you?"

"You beat, raped, framed and terrorized a decent, loving and beautiful woman," Jarod replied in a loud careful voice as though he were talking to a slow and violent child.  At the surprised look on Gareth's face, Jarod continued, "I did some additional digging through your financial records and found some interesting details.  Details like the account you set up in Elena's name to deposit skimmed funds from the company's coffers, then redirected them to a numbered Cayman Island account.  Very clever, if your theft was ever uncovered, then it would be Elena who would take the fall."

Gareth's pale, angry and craven expression was all he could summon by way of a response.

"I have a deal for you.  Admit freely and openly in front of all these witnesses what you have been doing to Elena and I will give you the new access codes issued for your account.  Take the money and run.  For you own sake, don't ever come back or try retaliating against Elena or I'll return."

"How did you find…" Gareth gasped incredulously.  The idea that his carefully thought out plan, which took him years to perfect as well as implement, had not only been discovered but compromised, rocked him to the core.

"The original graft conducted by your former employees exposed you.  You're no financial wizard; all it took was some simple double-checking and following the trail of money assigned to each of your departments.  Each should have had excessive funds but they all were experiencing impressive shortfalls in their respective budgets.  At first I thought this was being done by one of the other thieves but I soon discovered the real culprit was you.  Count yourself lucky that I don't throw your worthless carcass into this sludge water.  Time's out and we're all eager to hear what you have to say," Jarod replied as he took a menacing step towards the still partially paralyzed, wife-beating thief.

With great reluctance and an angry scowl, Gareth slowly admitted to the years of beatings he inflicted on his wife.  Generously sprinkling his confession with pathetic excuses and meaningless reasons for his behavior.  When he was done, Jarod stared at him for a few moments before turning his back in disgust.  Gareth, using the meager remnants of his restored energy, hauled himself up on his right side and hurled himself at Jarod.  Jarod turned and delivered another hook-punch to Gareth, felling him again.

Several glasses of water were used to assist Gareth into consciousness.  Jarod leaned over his prone boss and in a voice full of quiet menace stated, "This is what you're going to do: you are going to give Elena a divorce and in the settlement you are going to be very generous.  You will never see her again or attempt to have any contact with her.  If you do, then the tape I've made of your sexual assault on her will be given to the police and portions of that tape will be distributed to the press which will negate any of the good the public thought you might have perpetrated."  

"Why?  She doesn't mean anything to you.  She's my wife and if she doesn't object to the way she's treated why should you?" Gareth asked breathlessly.  

"As if you ever asked her if she objects!  She's your family.  She's probably the only person in the world who loves you, what kind of filth terrorizes someone who loves them?  How did you like the beating I just gave you?  Would you like me to return next week and give you another?  Or perhaps you would prefer one of my friends give you that beating?"  Watching the fear in Gareth's face grow, the anger Jarod had been trying to keep in check spilled out.  "She gave her _life_ trying to save yours and _this_ is what you've done with it?  I would have given anything to be in your shoes but they _killed_ her before she was able to get me or her own daughter out!"  Shaking his head in disgust, Jarod walked a few steps away holding his hands up around his head trying to control the frustration enveloping him.  "Do you think your intelligence was an accident?  Well it wasn't.  You were supposed to be raised, like I was to serve but you were given a reprieve by the woman who smuggled you out.  It was just dumb luck that you escaped the Centre's ordered purge a few years ago.  If I hear even a hint that you have hurt another woman again, I will come back and kill you, and that's a promise."

Jarod looked down at the wasted potential in this vile example of humanity and barely suppressing the urge to spit on him, Jarod stepped over Gareth's body and walked away.  For several minutes no one else moved, then one of the stevedore's broke ranks and standing over Gareth's body, he said loud enough for the other's to hear, "I won't wait for instructions from Muir, if I even see you look at your wife or any woman cross-eyed, the next night you will be curled up like this from the beat down I'll deliver personally.  We'll be watching."

Slowly the men all left, each giving Gareth a significant look that this wasn't the last the he would hear from them.  When they had all finally left, Gareth relaxed his partially paralyzed and battered body and heaved a sigh of relief.  Just when he thought it was finally over, another figure emerged from the shadows of an adjacent warehouse.  It was difficult to get a clear look at his face because the bill of his baseball cap cast another shadow across his features.  The figure walked up to Gareth and stared at him curiously, saying nothing.  When Gareth finally managed to look up, fear clouded his mind as he thought Jarod had returned.  The figure had a similar build to Jarod but he was dressed differently. 

After several minutes of silent appraisal, Gareth's apprehension slackened just slightly as the man didn't appear to have been involved with the prior assault.  

"Please, help me.  I was just mugged by a group of guys, they're gone now but I think I need to go to the hospital," whimpered Gareth.  When he received no answer from the other man, Gareth added, "Look, I'll make it worth your while."

"How can you, if you say you were just mugged?" the man finally spoke in an almost friendly voice. 

"I'm a wealthy man.  Get me to a hospital, leave me your name and address or stick around if you want and I'll pay you handsomely." 

A soft chuckle eased casually from the back of the stranger's throat, he shook his head slightly and said in a slightly remonstrative voice, "Yeah, right and have you tell the cops that it was me who beat you up?  Not a chance, buddy."            

Frustration was rebuilding in Gareth's mind.  He honestly intended to hold up his end of the bargain.  "Look, I don't have any money on me.  Can you help me get home?  Once I get there, I'll give you money."  Desperation was evident in every word Gareth spoke.  He was afraid the stranger was going to leave him alone on the dock.  He hadn't noticed the stranger, instead of moving away, inched closer.

The stranger squatted down and looked into Gareth's face.  Finally Gareth had the chance to look into his would-be savior's face.  The man had a clear face with smooth, even features and an easy smile.  'Another pretty-boy.' Gareth thought grimly. 

"Well, I suppose by the time we get to your house, Jarod would have removed all the cameras and listening devices he planted in order to get that tape he was talking about," the stranger stated in a still friendly manner.  Fear practically closed Gareth's throat as he heard the name of his former Financial Manager.  He racked his brain to recall but knew for certain that neither he nor Jarod had mentioned each other's name.  Giving Gareth an easygoing and friendly smile the stranger said, "You know, cleaning up after Jarod has become a full time job.  He leaves little loose ends all around like a messy kid.  I have to admit though, this time he's left a bigger mess than usual." 

The stranger smiled again and this time Gareth had the chance to look into his eyes which were as cold and unyielding as an Artic breeze.  "You see, several months ago I almost died hating him.  It was then I had my epiphany:  my anger wasn't properly directed or diversified and if I were going to prove myself, I would have to beat him at his own game.  So my new mission is to spread good will where ever I go." 

"Who are you?  What are you going to do?" Gareth asked in a small voice.  The malevolent, flat look in the stranger's eyes and face already provided the answer to at least one of his questions. 

"My name is Alex and I came from the same place that Jarod came from.  Mrs. Parker didn't have a chance to rescue me either.  Hell, I doubt she even knew or cared about me." 

"You said you hated him at one time.  I think I might have something that will help you get back at him?" Gareth stated but it came out more like a question.

"Really?  What is it?" Alex asked in his still friendly voice. 

"If you promise not to hurt me, please I really don't deserve this, any of this.  I was just trying to defend my honor," Gareth whined pitifully.

"Is that so?  Well, show me what you have, it just might influence my decision." 

Cautious to the threat Alex posed, Gareth decided to play it safe with this nut job.  "It's in my back pocket.  When I first discovered it, I had a chance to make a copy before he came into the office." 

While he spoke, Alex unbuttoned Gareth's back pocket and took out a laser scanned copy of a small photo.  It was too dark to see but Alex retrieved a tiny penlight from his jacket pocket and shined the light on the photo.  Without making any comment, Alex put the photo in his pocket along with the penlight and returned to staring at Gareth.  He then stood up abruptly and without warning he swiftly kicked Gareth several times in the torso and head, then viciously stomped on the man's chest, breaking any ribs that the kicking left intact.  Gareth muttered only a few shocked screams before being reduced to jagged gasps.  Alex squatted down and stared the wife-beater in the face. 

"Between you and me, the real reason golden-boy is so upset over this situation is because he is finally figuring out the obvious.  You would think someone rumored to be as brainy as him would have stumbled onto it before now," Alex said lightly as he tapped the picture in his pocket.  "She's one of our kind and she chose him back when they were kids.  My guess is that his next destination is to find out if he's too late."

"Please…" Gareth muttered weakly as he felt the last of his strength slowly dissipate with the mild ocean breeze.

"Poor Jarod, he forgot about the truth contained in the quote: 'Each man kills the thing he loves'.  Now, we both know that you would never just leave Elena alone.  Eventually, you would go back and slowly beat her to death just to piss-off Jarod.  Fortunately, in following Jarod these past few months, I also stumbled onto a mistake I made and that would be you.  I was one of the assassins the Centre sent out to kill the children Catherine Parker freed.  I knew a couple of you were skipped along the way and here you are."  Reaching over Alex wrapped his left hand around the back of Gareth's head, grasping the man's chin in his right hand, Alex swiftly yanked Gareth's head to one side, expertly breaking his neck.  Alex straightened and gazed down at the dead man, satisfied with his work.  He then weighted Gareth's body down with heavy steel magnets that he removed from a warehouse crate and rolled Gareth's body off the dock.  The loud splash of water made a welcoming noise to Alex's ears as he thought of the vaunted environmentalist sinking into the sludge he failed to clean up.  Perhaps if the water were cleaner the authorities would have found the body.  However speculation is useless since they never will. 

Alex stood there for at least 20 minutes more until he was satisfied that the weighted body wouldn't be popping back up any time soon.  Then remembering, he pulled out the picture Gareth had handed him.  An easy smile lit his features as he shook his head indulgently at his own thoughts.  Jarod's emotions were sneaking up on him and soon he will be too wrapped up in her, leaving Alex as the sole remaining Onisisus and the better pretender.

As Alex walked away, Kevin, the person Jarod had assigned to capture Gareth's confession on videotape, shrank apprehensively behind some crates.  He had taken a much needed bathroom break after Jarod left Gareth writhing on the wharf.  By the time he returned, he noticed someone standing over Gareth, at first he thought Jarod had returned and he checked to make sure the video was still running.  When he realized it wasn't Jarod, Kevin continued to film as Alex with deadly precision, murdered Gareth and threw his body into the harbor.  Kevin gingerly hid himself and his camera behind the grouping of crates he had set up to get a bird's eye view of the action.  He waited with the video still running afraid of shutting the mechanism down for fear of making too much noise and drawing the notice of the cold-blooded murderer on the wharf.  Once the man had left, Kevin released a relieved sigh and decided to stay put for the rest of the night until he was certain the other man had left.  Kevin turned the machine off and wondered how Jarod was going to react once he got a look at this.


	5. Hostile Environment Confrontation

**Disclaimer:  **Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements. 

**_Author's note:  _**_My beta-readers rolled their eyes when they read this portion.  I am a die-hard romantic.  Thanks for the Ivar's comment!!  _

****

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 5**

**By Callisto**

**_Super 8 Motel_**

**_Omaha, NB_**

Night had partially descended on the city, leaving a deep blue resonance in the horizon.  Oblivious to the spectacular sunset and the last lingering tendrils that remained, Jarod sat quietly in his motel room completely immersed in his own thoughts.  The professional quality tape Kevin had sent him was disturbing to say the least, Jarod had watched it so many times that he was obliged to have a copy made before he ruined the original.  It was obvious that Alex had been on his trail for sometime from his conversation with the now deceased Gareth.  Jarod held in his hands the only slim proof still existing that he wasn't the one who killed the wife-beater.  He had scanned the Seattle newspapers which were currently filled with the mysterious disappearance of the noted environmentalist around whom fresh scandal abound with criminal allegations now being brought forward by the IRS.  He was looking for any leaks which would indicate the direction of the police investigation—to no avail.  From his sporadic contact with Remington, the rest of Jarod's plans didn't suffer from any of Alex's interference.  The company had been quietly taken over by the committee Jarod had formed to step in when Gareth was forced out.  Elena had been admitted to a sanitarium after being tentatively cleared from suspicion by the police.  Jarod had set up a trust fund at a private Swiss bank for her and access would be made available the minute she was mentally and emotionally ready to make use of it.  Karen assured him that Elena's treatment was going well and she was slowly coming to terms with both her husband's inexplicable exit and his abuse of her. 

It was four months now since he had been in Seattle.  Still he considered his current endeavor risky at best, selfish at most.  He had traveled from numerous cities, looking over his shoulder, trying to catch Alex as the other pretender dogged his steps.  Unfortunately, Alex lived up to his reputation as a talented pretender and thwarted Jarod's efforts to catch him.  Tiring of the cat and mouse game and finally getting a taste of what the Centre's pursuit team went through with him, Jarod decided to go forward with his plans.  He sat practically motionless in the darkened room, removed from any distractions and simmed all the possible outcomes of his plan.  He also spent several hours pondering the reasons for Alex's behavior.  The resulting answer left Jarod confused and solidified his resolve to move forward with his bold plan.   

He looked at the plain wrapped box addressed to the Centre waiting to be mailed and breathed a deep, audible sigh.  The box contained the UNO Maverick ball cap he wore during his pretend as the team's cross-country assistant coach.  He had fun during his short stint and for once he had no objective in uncovering or righting any wrongs.  He wondered idly what Alex thought of his last endeavor, he could only hope that the sociopath hadn't murdered anyone in his wake. 

Five days later two fully loaded black Lincoln town cars pulled into the small parking lot of the motel.  Ever cognizant of his bribe, the student motel clerk openly gawked at the group as they filed into the tiny office.  The lady was exactly as described to him and the student smiled happily at the clearly distracted and discontented woman.

"Hi, you must be the folks from the Centre.  Jarod said to expect you but he didn't say there would be this many.  I only have three rooms for you, the rest of your party will have to register."

"How long ago was Jarod here," inquired the elderly distinguished gentleman with the soft foreign accent.

"Oh, Coach checked out two days ago but he left strict instructions to reserve your rooms, especially since he paid for them in advance," the enthusiastic young man replied as his eyes strayed once again towards the woman. 

"Coach?  Great another boondoggle with wonder-rat leading us by our collective noses," the stunning woman replied caustically.  Noticing the worshipful stare she was receiving from the clerk, she clinched her jaw and averting her gaze stated in a weary voice, "I'm not a bug and you aren't a microscope.  The keys?"

It took the clerk a second to mentally process her request, then he jumped in surprise, fumbling around he found the three keys and handed them over.  The balding man shot the clerk a sympathetic look as he removed the keys from the still fascinated clerk's fingers, handed two of the keys to his colleagues and began to register rooms for the black suited minions who had accompanied them.     

He watched them from the upper floors of the abandoned warehouse two blocks away using high-powered binoculars.  He observed their curious habit of conferring in one room before retiring to their own rooms for the night.  He took careful note of the rooms they chose.

He waited until night had completely fallen before cautiously approaching the motel.  From careful practice and reconnaissance he entered the motel and quickly gained access to the roof.  Like a cat-burger, he was dressed in black and blended completely with the backdrop; a small black duffle was slung tightly across his back.  He removed the duffle then dropped gracefully through the maintenance hatch opening and squirmed on his belly towards his goal, pushing the duffle in front of him.  His soft-soled shoes made little noise as he found the chosen duct opening.  Listening attentively, he peered through the grating and heard the noise of water running in the shower.  Pausing to make sure the room was indeed empty he popped open the grate and dropped silently into the dark room.  He stayed in a squat for another few seconds satisfying himself that he was still undetected.  Reaching up he replaced the grate just as the noise of cascading shower water suddenly stopped.  He hastily removed his black overalls and mask, revealing his matching dark clothing of black slacks and black silk turtleneck shirt.  He walked over to the entrance of the bathroom and waited on one side of the doorway for his quarry to exit.

The hot water of the shower helped to slightly relax her taut muscles.  The only other thing that would completely unwind her was alcohol but with her ulcer sending disgruntled messages, she decided to forgo that particular method of relaxation.  She opened the bathroom door and reaching behind her to grab a towel to finish drying her hair, a cloud of fragrant steam preceded her out.  This situation was better than he could have planned.  By the time she turned around to exit, someone shoving her bodily into the door jam with a firm hold on both her wrists surprised her.   He was facing her with his body slightly turned away, effectively thwarting any possible effort of kneeing him in the groin. 

To Jarod's surprise, she didn't scream or call out for help.  As her struggling became more aggressive and effective, he leaned forward and stared into her face.  Her eyes registered the shock she felt and unconsciously she stopped struggling altogether.  Jarod sighed deeply when he realized she would offer no other resistance.  Now her eyes held only the expression of incredulous curiosity.  Taking her silence as encouragement he whispered softly, "Your response time is getting slower than usual, I've been waiting for you to show up for three days now." 

Her furrowed brow and narrowed eyes were his only response.  Tired of the games and their measured dance, he allowed his building frustration to show in his eyes and face as he continued to stare at her.  "I lured you here because I need to speak with you.  I need to resolve our situation in my head because this limbo we're in is driving me crazy!" he said vehemently, each word puffing her half-dried hair backwards.  He paused for a few moments, waiting almost expecting her to call out or begin to struggle again.  When she did neither, he plunged on, determined to voice his feelings, more than half-expecting her to resort to the status quo.  Instead her expression remained steadily inquisitive and she did nothing more than to lightly suck on her bottom lip as though deep in thought.  

"Over the years, you have constantly asked me what I want from you.  Well, besides the obvious there is one last thing I want from you.  After that, I'll leave permanently, get out of you life and stay out.  All I want is a definitive answer."

Still she remained mute and merely stared at him.  However her proximity and the enticing perfume she was wearing began to seep into his imagination.  Her eyes again registered surprise when she detected the intense longing in his.  On impulse, Jarod leaned forward as she finished releasing her lower lip and hungrily kissed her, using his tongue to force open her lips.  She offered no resistance and allowed him to kiss her without returning the caress.  When he slowly pulled away, he was slightly surprised by her reaction and was further surprised when she took advantage of his slacked grip and shoved him away from her into the opposite door jam.  She stalked into the room and wandered restlessly passed the bed into the sitting room.  Pausing she looked at him with a wary expression. 

"Sorry, I didn't—well, I did mean it.  I didn't intend on doing that," he said distractedly as he passed his hand over his face.  "This is going to be tougher than I imagined.  I honestly thought letting go wouldn't be this difficult," he continued with a voice heavy with sorrow and regret. 

When he looked up again, he was facing the barrel of a 9mm; her usual answer to anything concerning him.  Remembering her words on the Island about how she had been programmed to think of him, he nodded and sat down wearily on the bed.  "Before you call in the dogs, hear me out, then just pull the trigger, anything that bullet could do would be preferable to what Raines would like to do to me."  He looked up to see the weapon slowly lower towards the floor.  This was the most quiet she had ever been when they were together.  Usually she had nothing but questions or was hurling accusations at him.  Wondering at her change in attitude he took a deep breath and told her the reason for his visit. 

"You know, I'm tired of running.  I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder with the threat of returning to a place that is worse than death for me.  Someone I met a few months ago advised me to confront you.  Give myself one last chance before I walk away forever.  While I've been free, I have been busy, not just with doing my part to make up for some of the horror my ideas have helped put into the world but I've been looking for someone to share my life with.  There is someone now but she doesn't…" he paused, leaning forward he placed his elbows on his thighs and stared into the bathroom thoughtfully.  "Touch me, reach me in the same way that you do.  A sociopath tried to tell me this but I didn't understand what he meant.  What I want is for you to be with me, give it a try, it might work out.  If it doesn't than you more than free to walk away, no strings attached."  His voice was flat and soft as though he knew what her answer would be.  When he still didn't receive an answer he looked at her curiously.  She continued standing there in her bathrobe, with her hair still damp from the shower, in the middle of the room; her 9mm lowered at her side.  She looked incredible and an unconscious smile of admiration graced his face.  He looked like the adorable 14 year-old her father had forced her to leave behind.  She averted her gaze and looked down at the floor skeptically. 

Noticing her indecision, Jarod prodded her a bit by saying, "All you have to do is push me away and I won't come back.  If not, then come with me."

Remaining silent, she walked passed him and placed her weapon on the nightstand.  Turning towards him she continued to stare at him warily.  The sounds of bored sweepers quietly talking outside her door caught her attention.  Taking a step she leaned into the bathroom and turned off the light.  The room was immediately immersed in darkness as the two occupants allowed their eyes to adjust to the dark.  The indirect glow from the moon filtering through the thin motel curtains was their only source of light.  

Jarod flopped back wearily on the bed.  He now took her silence as rejection and went over in his mind to shut down his immediate reaction until later when he had the luxury of mourning over this loss alone.  It was only recently, after some extensive soul searching, that he realized the depth of his feelings for this unusual, conflicted, beautiful woman. 

She gave Jarod her answer when she sat next to him on the bed and laid down beside him.  Jarod was surprised, he didn't move for fear of affecting her mood, thus scaring her away.  Instead she scooted further onto the bed and tugged at his arm for him to move also.  Once he was in position she shifted to her side and curled up next to him, moving her leg over his and placing a hand on his chest.

He listened to her breathing as it slowly evened out and became steady with the onslaught of unconsciousness.  He remained awake for several minutes, considering the ramifications of her behavior while her scent softly engulfed him.  With cautious sanguinity, he whispered softly, "Yeah, we both need some sleep.  Good night, Parker."  He kissed the top of her half dry hair and pulling at the bed covers he covered both of them and drifted immediately into a dream-filled, nightmare-free slumber. 

It was still dark when she woke up.  She found herself entangled in the limbs of a pleasantly smelling man.  She was momentarily disorientated until she            remembered Jarod's unexpected visit that evening.  She rose up on an elbow and yawned mightily; then sitting up in bed she stretched satisfyingly.  Wondering at her own good mood she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, it read 3:17am.  She had curled up with wonder-boy around 7:00 pm the previous night.  A full 8 hours without experiencing one sweat-drenched nightmare or inexplicably waking up with a start 15 times during the night.  She remained upright and ruminated over his offer.  Raines continued to rub it in that he was now her acknowledged parent.  A claim she could only consider seriously for a few seconds since it was harder to believe that her mother would ever have sex with something like that.  Her options were few and Raines' threats were many.  Over the last year she had lost much of what she previously believed as rock-solid truths.  There were few positive constants in her life and one of them was lying next to her.  Jarod started to squirm from the loss of her body heat and while still asleep he reached over for her.  Smiling at his discomfort she returned to her previous position and slid a hand under his silk shirt, widening her smile when she encountered nothing but the tightly packed muscles that crossed his chest and back.  After a few minutes of staring into his sleeping face and gently caressing his torso, she was satisfied to hear his breathing become heavier as his sleep deepened again.  She closed her eyes and joined him in unconsciousness.

Almost an hour later, Jarod woke up and yawned.  A heavy weight was over his heart and looking down he saw Parker's head resting comfortably on his chest.  With some amusement he noted that her hand was under his previously tucked- in shirt.  Needing to stretch, Jarod extended both his arms and arching his back he relieved the tension from every muscle in his body.  When he finally relaxed he felt her move, opening his eyes he found himself staring to her hers as she hovered over him.  Unable to restrain himself, he rose up on one elbow, reached over and cupping the back of her head in the palm of his hand, he kissed her again.  This time she reciprocated in much the same manner as he had last night.  She removed his shirt and smiled happily at his muscle-defined torso which, tantalizingly enough, was unmarred by even an ounce of fat.  Their kissing became more inclusive as his hands began to roam and soon found their way under her robe.  She surprised herself by enjoying his touch and did nothing to stop him.  Instead she began fumbling with the opening to his trousers where his sleep-induced erection was already established.  

Reluctantly, he pulled away and gently stilled her hand.  "Not here.  Not now with these thin walls.  I don't think I could be that quiet," he said in a desire deepened voice.  He leaned in a model-like pose on one elbow and gave her a besotted glance.  Dropping her usual protective mask, she returned his gaze with a look that spoke volumes of her own fascination and growing desire.  

Smiling rakishly at him, she finally uttered her first words.  "I would like to one day finish something with you."

"Come with me, my offer still stands.  I want to be with you, to stop running/chasing and just enjoy being with each other.  I want to be selfish for once and forget the Centre, forget our obligations and leave it all behind." 

"What about your family?  Your search for your mother?" she whispered in an incredulous voice as she lay back on the bed.  

"Let's make a family of our own, then we can worry about the details," he whispered back as his head dropped down for another kiss.  Just as he was starting to lose control, she broke the kiss and whispered, "I have to tell Sydney and Broots and I can't leave Master Parker behind at their mercy."

Moving down to her neck, he began to kiss and nibble at her replying between bites, "Later, we need time to see if this will even work out between us."

A husky chuckle bubbled out from deep inside, "Yeah, Genius it's going to work out just fine between us.  If I go with you, promise me that we will liberate Master Parker as well."       

"I promise.  I also promise to work hard on making a family of our own," he stopped nibbling on her neck and looked into her eyes warily.  "Why the change in attitude?" 

"I've had too much time to think.  There has been too much to think about and whenever that happens lately, the voices start chattering.  They forewarned me that something like this would happen but I didn't fully believe it.  With the consequences of my father's disgraceful suicide, I've also had to face my own feelings about a lot of things, including you.  I suppose this could be classified as another turning point?"

Nodding solemnly, Jarod watched her carefully.  Equal amounts of concern and wariness flitted across his face.

"I've already tried the other option—too many times, I know.  So, I'm willing to try door number two if you're willing to put up with me," she said in such a quiet whisper that Jarod had to strain to understand her. 

Grinning, Jarod was outwardly relieved but inwardly he would only believe it once he had her on his own ground and away from the Centre.  He had to tell her about Alex but that could wait till later—much later.  If his suppositions were correct, this was the scenario Alex had been eagerly anticipating. 

"Come on, we need to get you dressed so we can leave undetected."  Rising from the bed reluctantly, he walked over to the duffle bag he stowed unobtrusively behind the small couch.  Looking over his shoulder he noticed Parker had risen and was watching him curiously again.  When he returned he handed her the bag which she immediately opened, to discover clothing.  A black silk turtleneck that matched his and dark slacks along with a black balaclava and dark soft-soled shoes.  Underwear in her size had been included in the assortment.  Smiling at his caution, she immediately wandered into the bathroom dress, despite the fact that he had already had his hands on just about every inch of her only a few moments ago.  Once she had finished, she walked out to find Jarod placing a small item on the dressing bureau, then quickly he reopened the air conditioning grate and meticulously using a wet towel from the bathroom he mopped up the dust fragments then used the dry end to cover up his clean up job, he returned to the bathroom and washed out the towel thoroughly.  Walking up to his new companion, he handed her some overalls, brushed her curly hair from her face and asked cautiously, "Ready?" 

Taking a deep breath and nodding more enthusiastically than she felt, she pulled on the overalls and tugged the balaclava over her head.  Jarod imitated her and carefully closed the duffle while Parker straightened the bed.  He lifted her through the aperture and whispered for her to go to her right.  Once she disappeared he followed, after briefly looking at the now empty room and noticing for the first time that she had obeyed his instructions by leaving all her personal items behind but her gun was suspiciously missing.  Smiling under his mask he knew life with her was going to be interesting to say the least. 

Early that same morning Broots knocked on Sydney's door.  When the older man answered he was greeted by the worried look on the younger man's face.  Having encountered this concerned look often, Sydney opened the door wider and returned to packing the few items he bothered taking with him on this trip.  Sydney knew from the start that Jarod would be no where he could be caught, the only thing to wait for now was on the inevitable eruption of Parker's temper and the obscure clue left behind by his former protégé. 

"Sydney, Miss Parker isn't answering her door.  I knocked a half hour ago and again just now and still there's no answer," Broots said anxiously.  

"She's not known for her gracious morning greetings.  Give her some time alone.  I suspect after what she's been through the last few months, she only needs some time alone to sort out her thoughts." 

"Normally I would agree with you, Syd.  That is if she didn't tell me specifically to wake her at eight o'clock, it's now 8:45 and I'm worried." 

Sydney turned around slowly and stared at his colleague.  Sudden worry began to gnaw at him as he nodded silently to Broots and hurried from his room.  Spotting one of the sweepers who came with them, Sydney waved to the man to accompany them.  Within two minutes the three men were inside Parker's motel room and looking for any signs of their boss.  They instead found all her belongings exactly where she left them including her ID and sparse wardrobe.  It was then that Sydney's eyes lit on the neatly folded origami of Onisius left on top of the dresser.  He quickly turned to the sweeper and ordered him to have the others get ready to return to the Centre.  The sweepers had been her guards and it was obvious that they had failed in preventing her escape.  

Once the sweeper had left, Sydney picked up the small work of art.  Turning it over, he noticed writing on the underside.  Carefully unfolding the paper, Sydney discovered a note; he read the message written in Jarod's hand. 

Sydney—

I finally know what I want from the Centre.  Now that I have her, you won't be hearing from me again.  

Take care, 

Jarod.    

"Sydney, the only thing I can find missing is Miss Parker's gun.  It's no where in the room," Broots whispered nervously.  "Is it possible that she was kidnapped at gunpoint?  That's weird cause how did they get around the sweepers?" 

Looking up, Sydney smiled sadly.  He would miss her almost as much as he missed Jarod.  However, analyzing her actions was something he was now going to have to get used to—as with Jarod.  Sydney answered with some amusement. 

"No, I believe it was probably her idea to take the gun with her.  It has been used in the past to frame her for a murder she didn't commit, I wouldn't be surprised at her reluctance to leave it behind."  While he was talking he handed the note to Broots who read it and looked up at Sydney with an expression of wry acceptance.  Sydney took the note and meticulously began to refold it.   


	6. Hostile Environment A new player

**Disclaimer:  **Please see Chapter I for the usual statement.

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 6**

**By Callisto**

**_Super 8 Motel_**

**_Omaha, NB_**

****

The day had dawned bright and cheerful.  The air was crisp and the gathering light from the sun still held the magic that a new day promises.  The man dressed all in gray was oblivious to this beauty.  Indeed, his emotions and inner life had a kaleidoscope of colors that matched his clothing, rendering him insensible to anything outside of his own ambition and needs.  He squatted comfortably in the corner of a nearby roof with a pair of binoculars attached to his face as he scanned the upper floors of the seedy motel Jarod had picked for his pursuers. 

The man waited and watched with a single-mindedness which bespoke of his arduous and unyielding training.  He was waiting for Jarod to make an appearance; unaware that despite the hours spent waiting, he had missed his quarry, his role model, by at least an hour.  Jarod, as surprised at his reception as he was by the success of his mission, had left with the object of his affections long before his dogged shadow had a chance to see him leave.  What Alex saw instead was the remainder of the pursuit team, force open her door and enter.  A few minutes later a sweeper exited, then 15 minutes after he left, a thin, balding man carrying a dark garment bag and a smaller carry-on bag departed.  Shortly after, an older man emerged and closed the door, in his hand was an item that caught Alex's attention.  It was a message from Jarod; he was hanging up his wings and leaving the job of Onisius to his accomplished counterpart.  Alex's lips reflexively formed a wry smile, he was glad that Jarod was out of the picture but he would have preferred knowing where the other pretender had gone.  He was sure Jarod was going to ground now, it would be sometime before anyone would hear from him again, especially since it was clear from the other Centre employees actions that she went with him.

Lowering the binoculars, Alex released a heavy sigh.  Jarod was good, brilliant even when he wanted to be, Alex conceded.  Very few people, including other pretenders, ever got the best of Alex.  He knew he would have to bide his time before finalizing his plans in regards to Jarod.  Now was the time to keep the Centre off balance and to let them know a new player was now at the table. 

****

****

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

****

Several hours later, they had reassembled the pursuit team and left en masse from the motel to board the private jet headed back to the Centre.  Broots' emotions were in flux as he brooded about his boss' flight.  He wasn't sure how he would tell Debbie, his daughter had become very fond of Miss Parker and she had encouraged the teenager's attachment by spending hours with the girl, just talking and spending quality time with her.  Broots was also afraid, he suddenly realized that Miss Parker's presence had kept the wrath of Raines from hitting both him and Sydney square in the face, now with her gone there would be no such protection.  Broots decided that his daughter would be safer elsewhere until they could see which direction Mr. Raines would aim his vindictive anger. 

Sydney was also affected by her absence, in the months following Carthis he had grown closer to his usually closed off colleague.  She had inexplicably reached out and accepted what he could offer by way of companionship and advice.  He had been surprised but welcomed their growing closeness, now she was gone.  Sydney hoped that wherever Jarod would place her, in her new life, that she would finally find the happiness that had been denied her for so many years. 

Once the plane touched down and the solemn group slowly made their way back into the ominous stone edifice where they spent much of their life, they broke up into two groups:  One headed straight for the sub-levels where their workspaces were located while the other group headed directly towards the main upper mezzanine level where the chairman awaited news of their trip.  Miles, the head security detail sweeper, who had been assigned to 'safe-guard' Miss Parker, accompanied Sydney.  Broots, still carrying Miss Parker's bags, headed straight to his own office in the tech-section of the main building. 

When Sydney finished giving his report to Raines and Mr. Lyle, who happened to be in the chairman's office, Sydney watched the chairman's face grow pale with anger.  The large room was quiet except for the loudly audible sighs of Raines drawing oxygen from his portable supply.  Turning his sepulchral gaze on Miles, Raines stared at the sweeper for several minutes without breathing.  Sydney watched with creeping horror as the seconds slowly crawled by.  Even Lyle noticed that the audible breathing had suddenly stopped without resuming for at least a couple minutes as he stared at his new boss and father with incredulous fascination.  

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on her.  It was your responsibility to keep her from running or from any harm coming to her," he said in a flat voice.

"Sir, there were two sweepers on guard at all times.  When we entered her locked room, we were unable to find her or her method of escape," the sweeper answered in a shaky voice.  

"Unacceptable.  You have lost my daughter and now you're incompetence will cost you dearly.  Report to the renewal wing after you have finished writing up an account of your failure."

Before Miles could leave, Sydney interjected smoothly.  "Perhaps this will explain how Parker got passed two armed sweepers without being detected," he said quietly as he handed over the note Jarod had left.

Taking the note, Raines read what it said, apparently several times since the note was short and he continued staring at it for a number of minutes.  Without looking up, Raines intoned, "This is an interesting development.  It would indicate that there is a relationship between Miss Parker and Jarod on a level we have been deceived about.  What have you to say on this subject?" 

"It's obvious that Jarod must have deduced the pressures you have been subjecting on Miss Parker.  Since he left this note in an origami figure of Onisius then he is trying to tell us that he has come to her rescue.  There is no reason to suppose there is a romantic aspect to their acquaintance," Sydney replied easily, partially surprised at the depth of Raines' perception.

"Miss Parker has been particularly unsuccessful in capturing Jarod, this note would point to another cause for her failures other than her ineptitude.  Sydney, run a complete psychological profile on Miss Parker, I want to know all her weaknesses, especially those which will expose her." 

"Of course Mr. Raines. I will need access to her house for any papers or letters that may be of some use.  Perhaps Miles can assist me, it would give him a chance to redeem himself since Sam is still unavailable?"

"Be careful Sydney, there is only one Onisius and we want him back home where he belongs," Raines breathed wetly. 

**_Interstate 18_**

**_Iowa-Wisconsin border_**

****

The dark blue SUV was roomy and comfortable for the long trip.  Jarod had been driving since they left the motel and hiked what seemed like a mile through back alleys and darkened streets to the vehicle.  The only pause in their travels occurred when Jarod enigmatically pulled over in the middle of nowhere, hooked up his laptop computer to a satellite phone and typed furiously for approximately 20 minutes, then quickly closed the computer, unhooked the satellite phone and carefully repacked the equipment with a smug smirk on his face.  Parker was slumped down in the passenger seat going over in her mind the wisdom of her decision.  As she suspected, the voices were quiet when she truly needed them.  She glanced at her new traveling companion as he tirelessly continued to drive. 

Very little conversation had been exchanged as she brooded and he remained alert and cautious.  She suddenly turned in her seat to reach for an energy bar she had spotted in one of Jarod's bags.  After a bit of rummaging she found what she was looking for, however when she glanced through the rear window she spotted a trooper's cruiser coming up behind them at an impressive speed.

"Are you speeding?" she asked with a tinge of annoyance. 

"No, and the tail lights are all intact.  Maybe they are on their way to an emergency up the road," he replied evenly. 

His conjecture was answered when the cruiser's overhead lights started to flash.  Jarod pulled smoothly to the shoulder and waited patiently in the vehicle for the trooper to approach.  Looking in the side mirror, Jarod's brow furrowed when he saw the trooper get out of the cruiser but he said nothing.  Parker, looking through the mirror on her side, frowned thoughtfully.  She quickly leaned forward and opened the glove box which revealed her silver 9mm handgun, she reached for the sunglasses instead and closed the compartment.

"Howdy folks, out for a drive a little early this morning?" the trooper asked in a friendly voice. 

"Yes, we're on our way to Green Bay.  Is there something wrong, Deputy….." Jarod asked trying to find out his name. 

"Stubbs.  May I have your license and registration please?"

"Sure, Officer.  May I ask why you pulled us over?  I have my cruise control set at 55mph," Jarod asked in an equally friendly voice as he fished his wallet out of his back  pants pocket. 

"Well, you can never depend on those gadgets.  These foreign cars are very unreliable, I clocked you going at least 75mph."

"Yeah, right," Parker said in a low, sarcastic voice watching the second trooper with growing interest as he sauntered over to the vehicle, his Sam Browne slouching jauntily on his hip. 

The second trooper had walked up to her window and leaning over said in a gruff voice, "would you mind stepping out for me, ma'am?"  

Parker unlocked the door and stepped out.  The trooper towered over her and was clearly so overweight that his uniform had trouble catching up to his growing size.  Eying him distrustfully she was about to ask him what he wanted when he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around so she was facing the side door.

"Hey, watch it there, Bubba, what's going on here?" 

The trooper started to frisk her but instead of looking for weapons his hands lingered licentiously over her breasts and he placed a hand on her behind, gently squeezing her.

"You want more?" she asked in a suggestive voice.  Pivoting on one foot she whirled around and delivered a perfectly timed kick at the trooper's knee.  She didn't wait to hear the loud snap as she broke his kneecap; she kept up her assault by kicking him again in the solar plexus and punching him in the neck.  The trooper went down heavily; the vicious blow to his neck cut off his loud and pain-ridden shout.  For good measure she stomped on his other knee using all her weight, thus breaking his other leg. 

"What are you doing?" the first trooper screamed when he heard the abrupt shout from his partner as he was attacked.  Jarod moved swiftly, sweeping the trooper's feet from under him and landing on the trooper's back with his knee driving the breath from the other man.  Jarod then removed the trooper's weapon and forced one of his hands behind his back, pinching a nerve along the way, Jarod whispered in his ear for the trooper to cooperate. 

"Okay, why did you do that?" Jarod asked Parker as he brought his prisoner to her side of the SUV and out of sight of any passing vehicles, though the road was empty for miles.  He watched as she frisked the prone trooper's back pockets and relieved the painfully panting man of his wallet and sidearm.

"I'll be this good 'ole boy's uncle, if he's a real cop," she replied pensively.  Looking at the badge in the wallet she glanced at the ID and commented, "Well, what do you know." 

"What?  They really are cops?" he asked incredulously.

"No.  I was right, they aren't.  Not unless this guy is 28, six foot two and 205 pounds."  Leaning over, she stared into the middle aged, obese trooper's face and muttered softly, "As a rule, I don't have any particular love or hate for cops but you better hope the one's you stole these uniforms and car from are still alive because I hate cop killers."  Menace dripped from her voice. 

Noticing the sincere tone in her voice, the fake trooper Jarod was holding practically yelled, "Okay, okay, the real cops are handcuffed in the trunk of the car, they're still alive."

Straightening up, Parker looked at the fear in the fake trooper's face and gave him a tiny, cold smile.  She opened the door of the SUV and leaning inside retrieved a plain baseball cap and tucked her hair completely under it.  Then she fished out a sticky roller, used to remove lint off clothing and walking up to Jarod said, "I need you to bush this over my back." 

Understanding her intent, Jarod nodded and looked at the fake trooper as he tweaked the nerves in his arm causing the man to yell in pain.  "Don't try anything."  His response was a jaw-clinched nod and Jarod carefully passed the roller over her back removing stray hairs and fibers from her clothing.  While he used the roller Jarod asked, "What was your first clue they were fake troopers?" 

"The Sam Browne.  My idiot thought the keepers were a decoration, apparently when the trooper undressed he must have taken them off and this guy just put them back on for show.  He obviously didn't realize the keepers are used to attach the Sam Browne to the belt.  So brain-surgeon over here was walking around trying to look like John Wayne.  That plus the way the uniform didn't fit, when someone else is paying for it, a cop definitely will get a uniform that fits well, especially after he's gained so much weight."

"Not bad, that was my clue too.  Also, my guy doesn't know the difference between the State Police and County Sheriffs."  

When he was done, she took back the roller and passed it over the front of her clothing and then did the same to Jarod's chest and back.  When she was finished she tossed the roller back into one of the duffels. 

Parker leaned over the prone trooper and quickly frisked him and found some black leather gloves.  Putting on the gloves, Parker walked to the cruiser and inspecting the interior, turned off the lights and popped the trunk.  There she found the two real troopers, looking forlorn but hopeful.

"I need to know what your call sign is so we can get you some help.  Tell me that and I'll get you out of this trunk," she said softly. 

The troopers looked up at her disbelievingly.  The baseball cap hid her hair and the dark sunglasses concealed her eyes—her appearance hardly instilled confidence.  Their reluctance was apparent as she stared at them, then shrugging she reached up to close the trunk again but stopped as their muffled cries started.  

"All right, one more time.  I will remove one of the gags and all I want to know is your call sign, got it?"

Resigned nods were her answer as she reached over to one of them and pulled the tape off his mouth.  The man was breathing heavily and his face was flushed, Parker waited patiently for him to recover.  Just as he was about to speak she interrupted him.  "I only want to hear your call sign, nothing else or I'll close this trunk again." 

Licking his lips the real trooper nodded and said, "31-boy-20-adam."

"Good.  Now, what's your name, Officer?"

"Trooper Mayhew, ma'am please get us out of here."

She placed the trooper's gun in her back waistband and made sure they saw her do this.  Then one by one, she bodily hauled them out of the trunk since their legs had been duck taped together and their hands handcuffed behind their backs.  They were standing next to the trunk when she replaced the duck tape over the trooper's mouth, shutting off his pleas.

Jarod joined her dragging the fake trooper along with him and the group stood at the back of the cruiser. 

"Wait a second, I think I spotted a hog tie back here," she said to Jarod.  She produced a hobble restraint and handed it to him.  Jarod used the restraint to tie the fake trooper's hands using some unusual knots, then told the man to get into the trunk.  As he was doing that, Parker opened the back door of the cruiser and tapping one of the bloodied, underwear clad troopers on the shoulder, guided him patiently into the rear seat.  The second trooper hopped behind his partner and got in beside him.  She closed the door with a loud thump.  Jarod was dragging the prone impersonator to the back of the cruiser and with Parker's help, loaded his heavy, partially conscious form into the trunk on top of his friend.  The first fake trooper began to protest, when Jarod spoke up in a clear voice and said, "You didn't think about the comfort of the real troopers when you put them in here, so there is no reason for me to consider yours.  Their jobs are hard enough without losers like you, kidnapping them then using their equipment to prey on innocent drivers.  Think about that while you sweat it out in here."  With that he slammed the trunk closed with a gloved hand. 

"You used to be a cop once, I'll leave it to you to call for assistance for them, they're looking a bit dehydrated.  Their call sign is 31-boy-20-adam." 

Jarod grinned at her suddenly glad she had come with him.  She returned his smile and watched as he talked to the police dispatcher on the radio.  When he was finished, he scrupulously wiped the mike off, placed both of the troopers' weapons in the glove box, got out of the cruiser and walked back with her to their SUV.

They had driven about ten miles away when Jarod abruptly pulled off the road and using the LandRover's excellent 4-wheel drive system found a bush large enough to hide the SUV.  Jarod got out and removed the plates from the car and replaced them with fresh Wisconsin plates.  He handed the discarded set to Parker, who in turn meticulously removed any fingerprints from the metal plates while Jarod dug a small grave for them.  When he was finished burying the plates, the wail of responding police units whizzed by them.  As the last of the sirens faded into the distance, the two Centre fugitives returned to the SUV and continued their trip towards Wisconsin.

**_Author's note:_**_  Just in case there are those folks out there who didn't understand some of the terminology—a Sam Browne is the equipment belt law enforcement officers wear.  'Keepers' are small leather straps usually studded with two silver buttons that are used to secure the Sam Browne to the pants belt.  Without the keepers, the Sam Browne tends to sag from the heavy weight of the officer's equipment, ie, radio, pistol, handcuffs, etc. making it difficult to function not to mention run after suspects.               _

****


	7. Hostile Environment Debriefings

**_Disclaimer:  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements._**

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 7**

**By Callisto**

****

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

****

Broots stared in blank incredulity at the newspaper article mailed directly to him at his home.  This was a first; Jarod had often sent items directly to the pursuit team in the past but never to him _this _personally; Sydney, sure or Miss Parker to tempt her into looking further into her past and the mystery surrounding her mother's death—rarely ever to him. 

He hurried though the labyrinthine hallways that crisscrossed the interior of the Centre and quickly found himself entering the sim-lab outside of Sydney's office.  Rushing into the psychiatrist's office, Broots stopped in front of the desk, and quickly re-reading the short article, to make sure he wasn't imagining things, looked over into the composed face of his friend. 

"What is it Broots?" Sydney asked with growing curiosity.  Broots had been concerned about Raines' reaction to Miss Parker's defection, so much so that he moved his daughter to an undisclosed location for her own safety.  "Is everything alright?"

"Syd, you're not going to believe this but Jarod just sent me a clue!" Broots whispered emphatically.  

"Really?  From his note, I would have assumed we wouldn't be hearing from him for some time.  What is it and when did it arrive?"

Shaking his head in frustration, Broots leaned forward and repeated, "He sent the clue to _me_, personally at my home.  What do you think it means?"

"I have no idea but it would help if I could see what it was," Sydney replied patiently. 

"Oh, yes of course," he said and handed over the clipped newspaper article.  As Sydney read, Broots continued to talk.  "Without Miss Parker, I guess now we'll have to bring any clues concerning Jarod's whereabouts directly to Mr. Raines."  His voice held all the reluctance and dissatisfaction with this new arrangement that he felt. 

"Yes, it would seem so, though I have an idea about this, I believe Mr. Lyle would like to accompany us on this little trip," Sydney answered musingly.  

"I would just as soon stay here, if you don't mind.  That guy gives me the creeps." 

"Are you sure about that, Broots?  I would have thought the idea of being at the Centre alone with Mr. Raines more distasteful," Sydney said trying to conceal a smile.  

Broots became still then shifting his eyes over at Sydney, he looked at his friend apprehensively and offered, "Ummm, would you like me to come along with you to show this to Mr. Lyle?"

The smile Sydney had been holding back broke loose as the older man shook his head with fond amusement. 

Two days later, the three Centre employees gathered with anxious circumspection on the luxurious corporate jet.  Lyle stood at the bar, fixing himself a drink while his companions tried to make themselves more comfortable.  Lyle looked up when he was finished and made a quick assessment of his fellow passengers.  Knocking back the small drink in one gulp, he paused as the quality scotch burned a tasty trail down his throat.  He was in the middle of fixing another when he unexpectedly started speaking.  

"Tell me Broots, was it the pleasure of my company or the fear of spending too much time in close proximity to Raines, without Sydney running interference, that inspired you to come along on what promises to be a major waste of time?"

"I'm part of the pursuit team last time I checked.  I mean this is what I've been doing, all along.  Er…the director thought a more technical point of view would be helpful," Broots fumbled gracelessly. 

"Keep your shirt on, I wanted to get out of the house as much as you.  Besides the director suggested making you a part of the team six years ago—things change, including directors," Lyle stated with a knowing smile.  "So Sydney, what do you think of this latest clue, any ideas why he sent it to our humble technical support chief?" 

"This isn't the first time Jarod had us return to a place we had just been a few days ago, though I am intrigued at what could have been so important for him to contradict himself." 

"Ah, Nebraska, home of the Cornhuskers.  Home, sweet home," Lyle said in a voice thick with sarcasm as he polished off his second drink in one gulp.   

**University of Nebraska**

**Lincoln, NE**

"Well, like I told the police, we found the man literally hanging on the goal posts early in the morning.  He was as naked as the day he was born and had a sign hanging around his neck with "pederast" written on it," Coach Henderson stated as the shocking memory invaded his mind again.  "We used him as an under-assistant to the Assistant Gymnastics' coach, we had put him in charge of the equipment." 

"Was anything done to him or any evidence left behind to support the accusation on the sign?" Lyle asked.

"Yes, a couple of things.  There was an address on the back of the sign for the police to search.  One of the detectives is a friend of mine, so when he returned to search the locker he told me the address led them to the pervert's lair.  There was all kinds of evidence, including children's clothing with the dirtbag's semen all over them," Coach Henderson concluded with disgust.

Sydney noticed Lyle staring thoughtfully at the coach, so he continued with the questioning.  "Sir, what we're interested in is the man who exposed him, could you tell us something about him?" 

Shifting his focus from Lyle to Sydney, the coach gave him an appreciative smile.  "I like the pun."  Suddenly growing serious, he nodded distractedly and continued, "Oh, you mean Jarod?  Right, he was a cheerful fellow; always very helpful, friendly and never gave a wrong glance at the girls.  I guess that's why he jumped all over this situation with the pervert.  He said someone would be by to pick up his stuff, I'm afraid there isn't anything of any use in there, the detectives when through it with a fine tooth comb." 

"Did the pederast try to rape any of your athletes?" Lyle asked with mild curiosity. 

"Not that we've been able to discover.  He was assigned to the women's team, not the men's, so he didn't have any contact with the guys at all.  All the girls here barely gave the man a second glance.  I can't help but think of those poor kids, their lives are practically ruined before they even got started.  Did you know the youngest victim was a 10-year old?  What is the world coming to?"   The coach had been leading them into the staff locker room while he spoke, then stopped abruptly.  "Here we are, this one belongs to Jarod," he stated as he used his key to open the non-descript locker.  When he was finished he stepped back and looked at the three men.  "Take what you need, like I said there isn't much to begin with, anything you leave will probably go in the dumpster.  Now if you'll excuse me, there are some pressing matters which require my attention."  The coach was about to leave the room when Lyle stopped him with another question. 

"Excuse me, Coach, you said there were a couple of things done that supported the accusation on the sign, what was the second?" 

A momentary pause followed the question as the coach considered the wisdom of revealing this information.  Then with a shrug he said, "Well the second didn't have anything to do with evidence.  I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you, seeing your friends of Jarod's.  My detective friend told me the reason the man didn't yell for help was that his tongue had been removed.  According to the hospital, it was done with surgical accuracy.  I guess you never know, still waters definitely run deep, I wouldn't have figured Jarod would do something like that.  Serves the pervert right anyway."  With that, the coach turned and left the locker room. 

"Well, it would seem that you were right, Sydney.  Jarod's main objective must have been freeing my sister, then returning here to finish up this business.  At least there's one less pederast around to whisper seductive promises into the ears of unwitting 10 year-olds.  He wouldn't have had much time to do anything else," Lyle said as he cast a fastidious eye into the narrow opening of the locker.

"Now that's very strange.  I have to agree with the coach on one point; cutting out the pederast's tongue isn't something Jarod would do.  This is definitely a disturbing behavioral development for him," Sydney said pensively.  

Broots stepped forward and started rummaging through the sparse belongings.  Sydney watched his progress with interest as he peered at the few items on the top shelf.  "Jarod usually leaves behind something, especially if he went to the trouble of handing us this clue," Sydney stated unaware that he was losing Lyle's interest.

"Come on, it's a wash, there's nothing here of any interest," Lyle stated with disgust as he watched his colleagues paw through the locker. 

Both Sydney and Broots stopped their search in surprise and turned to look at Lyle.  Averting his eyes in a demonstration of his disbelieving apathy, Lyle released a frustrated, impatient sigh.

"Miss Parker would have insisted that we crate all this stuff up for further analysis at the Centre.  A few times that led us to some unexpected clues," Broots said, mildly remonstrative.  

"I'm not Miss Parker," Lyle bit back, suddenly irritated at the mention of his missing twin.  "Do what you want with this junk, so far, I've only seen one item of slight interest."  Bending down and moving a pair of worn athletic shoes, he grabbed a small binder and held it up.  "This is all we really need." 

Sydney looked at the notebook curiously and exchanged a puzzled glance with Broots. 

"What is it?"  Lyle asked.

"Jarod's notebooks are all red, this one is yellow.  There would be no need for him to change this particular pattern now; it's obvious he was never in any danger from us catching up to him.  He must have left here right after castigating the pederast." 

"Sydney, do you remember which pretender used this color notebook?  I remember Kyle used blue ones," Broots stated with growing interest.

Shaking his head, Sydney took the book from Lyle and quickly paged through it.  There was none of the obsessive or repetitive phraseology present here as there were in Kyle's—just the clipped newspaper articles about a spate of pedophilic rapes that had recently been plaguing the community, culminating with a Polaroid of the naked suspect hanging by his handcuffed wrists from the football goal post.

"Broots, find out which pretender used this color notebook.  Maybe there is a bit of steganography going on here," Lyle commanded as he turned on his heel leaving the other two on their own. 

**District Office 25 – Iowa State Patrol**

**Mount Pleasant, IA**

Gathered in the large common room where morning and evening briefings were usually held, approximately a dozen men had assembled as they watched the recorded encounter from the dash mounted police camera.  The debriefing was expansive as several supervisors, along with the State's attorney, a couple personal lawyers representing the troopers and the involved troopers watched their own kidnapping.  The rookie officer felt his stomach sink to the floor as he saw himself get ambushed for the fifth time by the idiot fat guy who sneaked up from behind and used him as a human shield against his own partner.

"Now here comes the interesting part, after a couple hours of running around, taking bribes and assaulting drivers, these bozo's try to highjack the wrong couple.  What gets me is the professional attitude these two have, there is no hesitation and no over-kill—just quick and concise like turning the tables on the bad guys was something they had planned well in advance," the District Commander stated with quiet admiration, after advancing the tape. 

The group watched and listened to most of the action for the fifth time as Parker leaned over her bogus trooper and demanded to know where the real cops were located. 

"Do you think they knew about the audio mikes?" one of the attorneys asked curiously.

"They knew enough about law enforcement to pick out flaws all the other driver's missed.  That trick with asking dumbo his name by addressing him as 'deputy' was clever," the shift supervisor offered.  "Mayhew, tell us again how you got 'dumb and dumber' to wear the microphones?" 

"I told them it was a recording device we wear to catch suspects making incriminating statements.  They thought it would be a hoot to keep a recording of their adventures," the training officer stated with disgust.  

"Were you able to get a line on who your rescuers are?  Did anything come up with the plates?" a training sergeant asked. 

"No, the address for the plates returned to a mailbox drop and the name he gave, Spencer King, turned out to be bogus," Stubbs spoke up eagerly.  He had spent hours trying to get a run down on the owner until he happened to speak to a Range Rover fanatic who, after laughing his head off, informed him Spen King, was the original designer of the vehicle.

"Our Bonnie and Clyde Samaritans are too careful to be considered your usual run of the mill bad guys.  Taxpayers, hell even some undercover cops would have slipped up and blurted out a name—not these two.  There is something about them, from the way they handle themselves, anticipate each other, to the way they talk, that screams 'government' and not law enforcement either.  Something along the lines of an acronym like: CIA or NSA."  The shift supervisor offered. 

"This duo is definitely professional, the use of the lint roller is proof enough.  Our forensics unit went over both trooper's uniforms as well as the entire cruiser, not a hair was left behind," said the head of the CSI division. 

"What about fingerprints?  Did you find the woman's prints on my wallet?  It's clear from the tape that she handled both my weapon and wallet with her bare hands," Mayhew asked hopefully. 

Smiling appreciatively, the CSI tech replied, "_Your_ prints aren't even on your gun and wallet.  She was very careful and wiped each section off thoroughly." 

"Are you sure you really want to find them?" asked a lieutenant from the sheriff's department.

"We could always press charges for false imprisonment after they left our guys locked in the backseat," offered the State's attorney, finally breaking his silence. 

"They didn't have to let our people out at all and that statement the guy made to the suspects just before locking them in the trunk would make me pause," a grim looking sergeant stated. 

The District Commander froze the tape on the picture of the couple walking unhurriedly away from the cruiser.  "This whole scenario is embarrassing enough without aggravating the whole situation by pressing charges against the good Samaritans.  If we do catch up to them, I would be torn between thanking them and being suspicious about their real identities.  They moved too well and too coordinated to be just Joe and Jane Citizen.  Besides, both were wearing sunglasses, her baseball cap and the gloves they wore, would make a positive match impossible on the surface and too expensive if we delved into this further.  This is one that will have to stay in the mystery column," he said with definitive authority, punctuated by a concurring nod from the State's attorney.  

At the front desk, a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers was delivered for Troopers Mayhew and Stubbs as the debriefing slowly came to a close.  On either side of the arrangement were two mini plastic bottles of spring water with a card stuck in the mist of the arrangement.  In a woman's hand was written:

'We hope you're both feeling better'

No fingerprints were found on the card and the florist's clerk, for the life of him, couldn't remember what the woman looked like who ordered the flowers.  Oddly enough, the surveillance tape of the transaction was obscured by electronic snow. 


	8. Hostile Environment Discoveries

**_Disclaimer:  _**Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements. 

****

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 8**

By Callisto 

****

****

****

**_Emerald Point Road _**

**_Millsboro, DE_**__

He loved the feel of power in his hands, literally and figuratively.  The sleek form and eager power of his BMW roadster was intoxicating and the recently acquired upgrades in power increased his enjoyment exponentially.  The road up ahead beckoned like a beautiful siren, revealing only a hint of its twisty, switchback curves with a plant encrusted cliff wall on one side and a sheer drop on the other.  Many an expensive roadster and enhanced racing coupe have wound up plunging over the sheer expanse to crumble hideously on the unforgiving rocks below.

Jeremy Lindholm was an indomitable man.  His business acuity was legendary as were his appetites.  Jeremy pressed the accelerator gently and felt the small two-seater leap eagerly ahead at his command as he headed with high adrenaline into the start of the twisty blacktop challenge.  Jeremy timed his reactions well, as he expertly downshifted and using a racecar driver's techniques—heel-toed between the pedals pushing his work of art to its limits.  The resulting hard-edged growl of the red-lined engine flooded Jeremy's mind like a narcotic; no chemical could reproduce this level of pure enjoyment.   

When he came out of the turn, Jeremy had an adrenaline junkie's endorphin induced, euphoric smile on his face.  As he approached the next turn, this one a blind curve, Jeremy accelerated again and intent on performing the same maneuver was unexpectedly surprised when the car initially responded as designed but then failed to react to his carefully timed breaking.  Jeremy tried to steer his way out of trouble but it was too late—he was going far to fast.  Seconds before his beloved machine smashed into the side of the cliff, the oddly cold but friendly smile on the face of his new mechanic flashed in his mind.  He had thought the man was a bit strange; now the warning klaxons his instincts had sounded began to make sense, just as he and his car were smashed, then exploded into small, indiscernible bits. 

Hours later, Lyle was standing on the road where Jeremy had finally lost his stupid roadster game.  This was a disaster; there was no other way to look at it.  Lyle stared glumly at the smoking, twisted and fragmented metal, small pieces of which were fused to equally small bits of Jeremy.  The guy had been definitely bent but he knew how to rein in his impulses and get the job done when required.  Lyle personally didn't subscribe to Jeremy's particular brand of depravity, however he had attended a couple exclusive 'parties' that Jeremy hosted.  Lyle was only lightly interested in S & M, his own tastes tended to run towards the exclusively sadistic.  He was the only one he would allow to physically harm him.  Although, that encounter with Parker in the parking garage last year, when he had grafted Raines' thumb onto his own hand, held some uncomfortable possibilities.

Shaking himself with a deep measure of self-disgust, Lyle contemplated how to break this tragic news to Raines.  He needed something else to hand to his new 'father', in order to deflect his anger away from the messenger.  A quick trip to the sim-lab where Sydney and Broots conferred would now be necessary.

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

Broots and Sydney listened to Lyle's story with growing alarm but remained silent.  They had just been discussing the implications of their recent discovery when Mr. Lyle interrupted them.

"What is it?  What did you find?" Lyle demanded. 

Broots released a deep sigh and stared at his new boss.  Lyle's impatience occasionally mirrored Miss Parker's.  Broots quickly ran through a list of ways to break the news softly to Lyle but finding none, and liking the man so little, he decided to give it to him full force.  "After a lengthy search through the files and finding nothing, I decided to back track a bit and found what we've been looking for.  It appears as though the Chameleon has returned; the only pretender to use a yellow notebook was Alex." 

Shock and dismay registered in Lyle's face as he recalled to mind, everything Parker had told him about what happened to Alex.  Although no body had been recovered, that evil freak was supposed to be dead after falling several stories into the cold and shallow depths of the harbor.  With this discovery, Lyle toyed with the idea of re-evaluating the actual deaths of any Centre personnel, including Mr. Parker.  Unfortunately for Jeremy, it appeared as if Alex had been thorough because by the time Lyle had left the crash site, the Coroner's assistants were still scooping charred spoonfuls of Jeremy off the pavement. 

"Could Jarod be doing this just to throw us off?  A red-herring to start us spinning our wheels and wasting our time looking for a dead man?" Lyle asked Sydney in desperation.  Lyle, while never acknowledged as a pretender, was no slouch at putting two and two together.  He quickly grasped the implications and complications of Alex's survival. 

"No, I seriously doubt it.  Jarod did tell us that he wouldn't be having any contact with us for sometime.  He must know that Alex is still alive and that note was a clue to let me know that he isn't involved in whatever Alex is planning or doing."          

"That means this morning wasn't an accident, Lindholm was an expert driver—the only answer could be Alex," Lyle declared absently.

"You know Alex better than anyone else here.  I can only draw sketchy conjectures from his psychological files.  If Alex is responsible for Mr. Lindholm's accident, what purpose does this serve?" Sydney asked probingly. 

Drawing himself up sharply, Lyle released another sigh and looking at Sydney's worried face, he smiled tightly, "I don't know and I hope to heaven never to find out."  With that, Lyle turned and headed towards Raines' office, preoccupied with how much of this discovery to reveal and coming to the conclusion to keep his own thoughts to himself. 

**_Jarod's private lair_**

**_Green Lake, WI_**

It was late in the evening, as the fire burned brightly in the fireplace.  A large bed was situated across the room from the fireplace and two figures laid side-by-side under the comforter.  The woman was lying on her stomach, with her arm resting on the chest of her companion.  Her head was turned away from his body as her mass of hair completely obscured her features.  Her breathing was deep and measured as Jarod imagined he could hear the exhausted sound of her satisfaction.  He breathed deeply and fighting off the pull of slumber, thought about his conquest.  In the last couple weeks, she had gone from being his adversary to his lover and he realized how short a leap it had been.  He recalled the way she had been when they were kids and after scratching through the surface, he found she hadn't changed all that much.  Smiling, he stretched enjoying his own satiety and thought about the initial awkwardness of getting her in bed. 

After the incident with the fake troopers, the rest of the trip had been wonderfully uneventful.  They had stopped in Madison and did some shopping for Parker, since she had left all her clothing and toiletries back in the motel room.  She had chosen clothes which suited her taste, without the designer labels.  After they loaded all their purchases into the LandRover, Jarod became aware that her earlier indecision seemed to have evaporated.  They arrived at the house in the evening and set about making the place livable.  Jarod had offered the largest bedroom to her, opting to take one of the smaller ones for himself.  The rest of the week had been spent companionably but platonically.  The following week, her earlier coolness returned as they cleaned and cleared the yard littered with debris from months of neglect, eventually turning their efforts to repairs on the house itself.  

One afternoon, deciding on taking a break from his labors, Jarod stretched out on a blanket, under a tree in the forest that bordered the open, manicured back lawn.  He had taken his MP3 player and putting on the headphones, settled down to relax and listen to some classical music.  The undergrowth that surrounded him partially hid his body from view.  

Parker had finished making lunch and after calling his name several times realized she had lost her handsome friend.  She was momentarily taken aback by her own internal acceptance that he was truly her friend and also hinted at certain weaknesses laying just underneath the surface which she continued to struggle keeping in check.  She realized that her own defense mechanisms had snapped securely in place.  Looking out of the kitchen window, she couldn't find any sign of him.  Slouching suddenly and putting her face in her hands, she forced herself to face the fact that she had been unfair to Jarod.  She brooded on this for a few moments before straightening her posture and walking determinedly out of the house.  She instinctively headed towards the dock, thinking he had possibly gone for a swim, suddenly and unconsciously changing direction, she decided to cut through the woods instead of walking on the well-worn path.

Falling heavily as she tripped over something was the last thing she expected.  When she looked back at her feet, Jarod had popped up like a jack-in-the-box from the undergrowth where he had been laying.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a loud voice. 

"Yeah, only my pride is hurt," she murmured to herself.  Looking up, she saw that the Genius still had his headphones over his ears.  Sitting up, she got up on her knees and reaching over removed his headphones which emitted the sounds of resonant classical music.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said with gentle amusement. 

"You're welcome, did you need something?" he offered. 

Sitting back on her heels, she inadvertently had one of his legs between hers as she hovered over his shin.  Instead of answering him, she stared into his face and leaning over she kissed him, unexpectedly.  As she started to pull away, Jarod gently squeezed her shoulder and brought her back, continuing the kiss.  When they finally separated, they stared at each other for several seconds, until Jarod moved to the side, tacitly offering half of his blanket to her.  Taking the offer, she settled next to him and he gently turned her head towards him, allowing his fingers to remain caressingly on her jaw as he stared into her eyes.  His intent was clear and her eyes were untroubled as he kissed her deeply and both leaned backward.  Nothing held them back this time, as the forest bore witness to the first time pursuer and prey made love.  The surrounding trees and foliage absorbed the sounds of their pleasure.   

That had occurred a few days ago.  Since then, they seemed incapable of keeping their hands off each other.  He had finally gotten what he wanted and it felt great.  Her body was actually better than what the silhouette from the thin screen in Ocee's living room suggested.  When he had originally approached her, Jarod expected her to turn him away as before; instead she had come with him and the resulting experience was more than he could have anticipated.  Jarod smiled happily as he kissed her palm and let himself succumb to his fatigue.     

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE _**

Two days had passed since Lyle revealed the extent of the disaster that was Alex.  Sydney was shuttered in his office, refusing to come out.  Broots, for kicks, started reviewing some DSA discs of Alex's sims that he had uncovered.  What he found was disheartening, the things Alex had been made to do were degenerate at best.  He was used to corrupt the findings of other pretenders and when the consequences of his research were particularly horrifying, he had been presented with the results, given a grateful pat on the back, privilages and glowing praise.  Watching the tortured and troubled expressions on Alex's teenaged face was difficult to bear. 

Broots had enough, he pounded on Sydney's office door demanding his friend either open the door or come out and talk to him.  All was silent for several seconds and as Broots raised his fist to beat on the door some more, he heard the soft snick of the lock being released and the door slowly opened.  Sydney was a sight, it appeared as though he had slept in his clothes for several days and his bloodshot eyes revealed that he had stayed up reading all night.  However, the look in his eyes was as troubled as Broots.

Sydney looked at Broots with jaded curiosity and said, "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine.  Regrettably, I don't believe either of us has anything joyous to share." 

Broots frowned and brushed passed Sydney into the disheveled office, carrying a small box.  Looking around Broots found evidence that Sydney had indeed slept there.  A light blanket was piled gracelessly in a corner of the couch and the remnants of a sparse breakfast were sitting abandoned on a corner of his paper and file-covered desk.  Broots picked up the phone and punched a four-digit extension; when he was connected, he ordered lunch for the two of them to be brought down.  Broots then sat on Sydney's leather couch and stared at his friend. 

"Sydney, you should have gone home, given yourself a break from this," Broots said, nodding his head at Sydney's desk.  "You need to get some sleep, exhaustion isn't going to help you concentrate any better."

"After what I've been delving into, I doubt that sleep would have been able to reach me—this is the stuff of nightmares.  Every day we dig under the thick outer layer of the Centre, we discover something more reprehensible than before," Sydney replied in a defeated voice as he returned to his desk chair and sank down into it heavily. 

"I found some DSAs on Alex, from when he was a teenager here.  Sydney, they are enough to make me want to grab my little girl and run screaming from this place." 

Grimacing at the thought of what Broots found, Sydney leaned forward and began reassembling the piles of paperwork scattered on his desk.  "What I found is equally troubling.  From what I've been able to gather, I'm sure Alex will never stop killing, only now his anger has been turned directly on the Centre.  I've been racking my brains trying to figure out why the man in the roadster was so important to him.  Once I have that piece of the puzzle, then I should be able to make an educated guess as to what he's after."

"The man in the roadster was one of the Centre's biggest clients.  We had just finished a deal with him; a commission for at least 5 sims to be completed by the end of the year.  This deal was so lucrative that the Triumvirate had started to back off from their macro-management.  Now that's all gone with only more on the way to look forward to," Lyle explained suddenly from the doorway of Sydney's office causing both occupants to look up in surprise.  "I told Raines only a part of this, saying that you two had a line on the real culprit.  That should buy me at least another week so I can figure out a less hazardous way of breaking the rest of the news to him." 

Sydney nodded and watched Lyle, wondering quietly why he had told them this much.  Looking at the mess on his desk, the answer slammed into his brain with brute force.  "You expect Alex to continue his assault against the Centre.  Once he has finished thinning out the client list then he will probably turn his attention on the Centre's employees—namely you." 

"I had to resort to some rather, drastic tactics to get this guy to clean up his act.  Everything I tried failed, that nut job would just sit in his own sweat, blood and excrement and turn his depraved grin on me." 

Shaking his head in disgust, Sydney stood up and stared angrily at Lyle.  "Subjecting Alex to more torture would never have worked.  The lengths that had been used to turn him into sociopath placed him on a road from which there is no return.  This blood letting won't stop and I'm afraid for Jarod."  Watching the bored, cynical expression that sprang readily onto Lyle's face, Sydney felt like shouting his frustration. 

"Lyle, who is it that your former father placed above Alex?  Who was considered the better pretender?  Who was Alex's last target before we were informed of his supposed death?  Who is it that we have been pursuing for the past 6 years so relentlessly?  Jarod is considered the crown jewel to the Centre and not just because of his mind but his genetics as well.  You think I was blind to the mild retort Raines gave that sweeper guarding Parker?  I remember when Raines lost his real daughter, Annie.  He wept like a human being for once, a healthy display of emotion that he never bothered extending, in any form, to either you or your sister.  Constantly placing her in Jarod's way, then eventually losing her altogether was a macabre, cavalier method of dangling bait!  Raines et al were always aware of Parker and Jarod's mutual attraction.  The only consolation here is that it was Jarod and not someone else like Alex.  My God man, there must be a shred of humanity left in you to be concerned about your one remaining family member."

Watching Sydney during this outburst of emotion was sadly entertaining.  Lyle needed them to continue to monitor Alex's behavior.  The cheese factory was about to crumble from the predatory anger of a mad rat named Alex.  The only thing left to do was to consolidate one's own finances and to get out while there was still a chance.  Lyle detached himself from the doorframe and almost running into the commissary clerk who was bringing lunch, he left the sim-lab. 

"You okay, Syd?" Broots asked worriedly as he removed the tray from the clerk's arms and closed the door behind him.

"Yes, thank you Broots.  It feels good to finally get that out, it's been brewing in my mind for some time.  I suppose I just signed my death warrant."

"No, I doubt it.  There is no one else around here who knows both Jarod and Miss Parker as well as you.  What I really came in here to tell you is that I received another clue from Alex and he does mention Mr. Lindholm."  The expected shocked expression on Sydney's face reassured Broots that his friend was still capable of being surprised.   "I doubt Alex is thinking the way Mr. Lyle suspects, here take a look at this," he said handing Sydney the small box containing a neatly folded, bloodstained choir robe, the small handwritten note resting on top was also bloodstained.

'One never knows what might be waiting around the next corner, just ask Mr. Lindholm.  Now that you're aware of my presence, stay out of my way, Mr. Broots and no one you care about will get hurt.  Well, almost no one because I haven't forgotten about your former boss.'

"You were right Sydney, he'll be going after Miss Parker and probably Jarod as well.  So what do you say, should we go over to Mr. Lyle and let him in on this little clue?" 

"No, let's wait until after we see what Mr. Raines' reaction will be to finding out Alex is still alive.  Mr. Lyle should survive Raines' wrath and that alone should make him more receptive to anything we might show him."

"Receptive?  Why do you want him more receptive?" 

"Instead of him using us as the canaries in the mine shaft, I fully intend on using him for the same purpose.  The power Miss Parker wielded kept Raines partially at bay, without her we are forced to become more creative," Sydney said quietly as his eyes took on a far away look of a man who had come up with a plan. 

"I hope Miss Parker is alright, I only wish there were a way to get a message to her," Broots said fretfully. 

**_Jarod's lair_**

**_Green Lake, WI_**

Parker woke slowly and languorously from her heavy, uninterrupted slumber to find her right arm pinned under her lover's body as he rested comfortably with his nose planted firmly in her hair and an arm curled loosely around her waist.  She carefully disentangled her legs from his and gently pulled her arm from under his body.  Jarod repositioned himself on his stomach and left his arm resting on her side of the bed.  She smiled with loving fondness at his sleeping form and allowed herself a few additional seconds to drink in the sight of his magnificent body.  Bending down she gently covered him again with the covers and quickly stepped into the bathroom.

Once the door was closed, she leaned against it and allowed her mind to consider the events that led her to this.  Sighing heavily, she realized that she had no regrets and for once in a very long time was looking forward to her future.  Moving her head, she absently glanced in the mirror and realized she didn't recognize her own reflection.  She hadn't looked this relaxed in years, probably decades.  Giving herself a rakish grin she bent over, washed her face and brushed her teeth with cold water.  Reaching over, her hand brushed up against a soft cloth before finding the rougher towel she needed to use.  After drying off and brushing her hair, she put the towel down and saw the black V-neck t-shirt Jarod wore a couple nights ago—they had gone practically naked since then.  Without thinking, she picked up his shirt and placed it against her nose, breathing in his scent.  She remembered the last time she had done this and was dismayed.  Rarely a day went by that she didn't think of Tommy.  She still missed him but time had finally done its job and released her from the sharper aspects of grief.  She buried her nose in Jarod's shirt again and to her surprise a forgotten memory resurfaced.

_They had spent the day, what would turn out to be their last day together, exploring.  Angelo had grown bored and quietly left them alone as Jarod continued to ask her questions about what it was like to actually lay in thick grass and stare up into the sky.  She tried to describe the sensation but she felt her vocabulary and powers of explanation too limited._

_"One day, we'll lay in a meadow together, holding hands and watch the day slowly turn into night," he commented softly. _

_She smiled at him and turned her eyes on the sim-lab.  She felt Jarod staring at her and was glad for his scrutiny.  Her feelings for her friend had been undergoing a change.  He had unexpectedly started looking dreamy and being with him was a treat worth waiting for her father to lose interest in her; allowing her to seek Jarod out. _

_"I wish I could leave here and we could do and go see some of the things I've read about," he said softly.  Still staring at her he asked, "would you mind if I did something?" _

_"What?" she asked innocently. _

_"I want to touch your face, would that be okay? " he inquired hesitantly. _

_"Sure, I guess so.  Why?" _

_Instead of answering he placed his cheek against hers and was pleasantly greeted with the softness of her skin.  He continued to caress her face using his own, gently and slowly playing with her nose using his own and leaning around to caress her other cheek with his.  The experience was deeply sensual and captivated her imagination.  When she felt he was pulling away, she embraced him and softly nuzzled his neck.  It was then she noticed his scent, this further intensified the experience.  The sound of voices forced them apart and Parker ran out of the room before she could be caught. _

It had been Jarod, who had inspired her olfactory curiosity.  She loved the way Tommy smelled, the scent left on his shirt had comforted her many a night.  Now she remembered the origin of her custom.  Jarod's scent still allured her imagination and looking down at his shirt she knew unequivocally that she was falling in love with him.  Keeping her distance had protected her from succumbing to the emotions she kept tightly under wraps. 

A light knock on the door startled her; in a panic she quickly donned his shirt and opened the door.  Jarod stood there staring at her; he had become worried when she didn't immediately return to bed.  Before he could say anything, she immediately embraced him as she had over 25 years ago and lightly nuzzled his neck.  He returned her embrace and caress.  When his hands moved up her back, he looked down and found she was wearing his t-shirt. 

"Hey, what are you wearing this for?  I don't think it fits you too well," he said with amusement. 

She smiled delightedly and chuckled softly as she wound her arms around his naked waist.  "You spoiled me rotten, Genius."  Reaching upward she kissed his bottom lip, cutting off any of his inquiries.  They remained in the bathroom and made love there.  Jarod threw his t-shirt carelessly on the countertop.


	9. Hostile Environment True feelings

**Disclaimer:**  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 9**

**By Callisto**

Delta Airlines—Flight 2230 

**_In flight from Atlanta, GA _**

The plane was headed northward, taking him towards a small clue he accidentally uncovered as to the whereabouts of Jarod and his playmate.  He sat back in the comfortable first-class seat and considered his options.  The Centre and all those associated with it were at the mercy of his deep, uncompromising anger.  For every good deed he managed to perpetrate—à la Jarod, he dealt the Centre another irrevocable blow.  He knew the prevailing thought was that when Jarod finally conceded to defeat at the extensive efforts in place to keep him from finding his mother; the _preferred_ pretender would turn on the Centre.  A move which was anticipated and the trap set to finally recapture their most elusive of prizes.

Alex was aware of most of the findings, prevailing thoughts and plans of the Centre's hierarchy when it came to anything concerning Jarod.  His time spent eagerly doing the bidding and carrying out every murderous whim of the Triumvirate had been educational on many levels.  He also knew the other reasons for Mutumbo's assassination.  The arrogant African had lost faith in Mr. Parker's plans and was actively working to minimize Miss Parker's role in capturing Jarod.  Mr. Parker and his brother Raines had plans involving Miss Parker and were practically shivering in anticipation of the emergence of her so-called 'inner sense'.  Alex scoffed inwardly at their belief in this ridiculous super-sense which was supposed act like a supernatural advisor to let them know the best way to manipulate and worm their way further up the ladder of power, influence and financial superiority, not to mention freedom, from the Triumvirate.  Maintaining the fiction that she was a Parker was therefore necessary to their plans.  They wanted her to produce a child with Jarod, among others, in an effort to meld their respective genetics; the issue of which was expected to eclipse even Jarod's intellect and endowed with his mother's gift.  

Alex unconsciously exhaled a deeply cynical and dissatisfied sigh.  If Jarod's abilities and accomplishments were going to be minimized by his own child, that practically insured Alex would have been retired and brushed aside like yesterday's third page news.  That would never do and Alex refused to stand by idly and let it happen without making his objections felt by all those who discounted his gifts and contributions.  

The Centre would have to pay dearly for his latest spate of goody two-shoes.  The research he had put into this pretend alone was exhaustive.  Alex discovered a demented scheme involving a group of street maintenance workers in a mid-sized Southern city.  Alex had gone there hoping to get a line on Jarod, when he noticed an odd occurrence that almost caused a horrific traffic accident.  This sick scheme involved two brothers and a couple other employees who would, at the behest of a greedy counterpart from an auto insurance company, cause the traffic signals in the busiest intersection in the city to all turn green.  It only took a moment, then one direction was quickly returned to red but not before an enterprising speeder would run the yellow light at full speed and crash headlong into opposing traffic.  The results were several deaths and lucrative kickbacks from the insurance company mole, as the rates would invariably soar for anyone living in or around that particular zip code.  Between them they had claimed at least a dozen lives.

The counterpoint for the Centre had to be appropriate.  Smiling happily, Alex decided to do some venting on the Triumvirate as well.  The death of the Triumvirate's Centre liaison would force them to sit up and take notice.  As the plan began to take shape in his mind, he sipped at the glass of spring water the stewardess handed him; the clue destined for Broots sat waiting patiently on the seat beside him.    

****

****

**_Jarod's lair_**

**_Green Lake, WI_**

Lounging comfortably on the large couch, she tried to concentrate on the book in her hands instead of wondering where her lover had gone.  She released a frustrated sigh as she tried to refocus her thoughts on the paperback novel.  Still holding the book up, in an attitude that suggested reading, she gave into her thoughts about this intermezzo Jarod imposed on both of them.  A soft smile graced her face as she thought about how much sex they had been having.  It felt like she was getting more now than she ever had in her life.  Centre intrigues didn't get in the way and their interest and desire was mutual.  The only part of her that had enjoyed more sex was her completely fictional reputation.  How those morons back at the Centre actually believed the overheated illusion was beyond her, she was a workaholic who easily put in 16-18 hour days at the office.  If she had as many men as rumored than she would also have black circles around her eyes, probably more than one STD and a mood fouler than Lucifer.  

While she was contemplating the inanity of her Centre reputation, she felt the couch dip from someone sitting at the opposite end.  She refused to look up and kept the book in front of her face.  He lifted one of her crossed feet, gently removed her sock and started messaging it.  The sensation was too enjoyable and she involuntarily released a groan of appreciation.  Giving up her pretense she lowered the book and stared at Jarod, who was seated facing her. 

"I thought we were supposed to stay away from each other for a day, to 'get a better perspective on our relationship.'''  She quoted softly, as a small petulant note crept into her voice. 

"I know but I was starting to miss you and I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I gave up.  We can stay here as long as we like without any interruptions or anyone bothering us, so why put up useless restrictions?  This is our time," he said smilingly as she removed her foot from his hands and rubbed it along the inside of his thigh, working her way to his crotch.  He looked at her fondly and with a mock expression of incredulity said, "I believe, Miss Parker, that you are starting to like me." 

Sensing a small grain of sincerity in his voice, she forced her expression to stay neutral.  She was surprised by his comment, thinking she had made her feelings for him apparent—something she would take great pleasure in clearing up for him.  Rather than speaking her mind on that subject she instead asked him another question that had perplexed her.

"Why did you keep trying to get me to leave after everything that occurred between us?" 

Jarod had taken her foot back and tantalizingly started moving further up her leg, messaging her calf muscles.  "I was there when you challenged Mr. Parker and Raines to reveal which was your real father.  With the death of Mr. Parker, I knew Raines would start putting pressure on you to bring me in and tow the corporate line.  You were never moderate in your dislike of him, so it was only a matter of time before he ordered your death.  Because of some information I was privy to, I found it difficult to believe you could be his daughter, I saw his reaction when he lost his real daughter, Annie.  It took me several years to figure out that Raines was the last name of the 'Blue Moon' killer's final victim."

Her response was a thoughtful nod and silent sigh.  She looked up at him trustingly and Jarod, in turn, found himself struggling to maintain his composure.  It was her trust that was his goal and quietly, without any fanfare, she had given it to him completely.  His hands continued their slow trek up her leg as he started on her knee.  He leaned over and softly bit her thigh through the material of her pants.  

A desire-filled sigh escaped her lips.  "Oh, God, you really know how to get to me, don't you?" she asked laughingly as he looked up smilingly at her. 

Instead of answering her, Jarod gave her an intense look and said, "Now it's my turn to ask a question.  Why were you so determined to return me to the bottom level of Dante's hell?  Did you used to hate me that much?"

"No, Sweetheart, I never hated you," Parker said with gentle earnestness, using the endearment unconsciously.  "I suppose you didn't notice my personal change in mandate.  It was after I had been shot trying to save my father from a snipers bullet.  Broots found some DSA's that showed the treatment you were subjected to at Lyle's hand.  Previously, I never gave it much thought what would happen if you were brought back but seeing your torture—well, I decided to chase you with no intention of ever capturing you."

"'You run, I _chase_'," he quoted quietly.  "Chase being the operative word.  Whenever I left a clue, you would follow through on it and run after me enthusiastically, putting on a good show for the powers that be."                

"Right.  Finding you on that island was a bit of a shock, I hadn't thought it through what to do with you, if by any chance I actually caught up to you.  I was depending on you to keep eluding me.  The main reason I was stuck in hell was I didn't want to leave or lose the man I had always thought of as my father."

The sadness in her eyes, which during the past month had yet to make an appearance, reasserted itself.  Jarod, to divert her train of thought, put her leg down, leaned over and stretched his length over hers.  He stared into her eyes deciphering their expression and said in softly deep voice, "Hey, it's much better when your thoughts are concentrated on more immediate concerns, such as your own pleasure.  Just think of me as a means to refocus your attentions." 

He was rewarded with a small, wry smile and gently lowered himself on top of her.  Once he positioned himself more comfortably for the both of them, he murmured into her mouth.  "That was a dumb idea to take a break." He kissed her tentatively, as she softly chuckled, then became more insistent after a few seconds.

"I have a request to make," she announced as soon as he would allow her to speak.  "No more fast food or junk food for you mister.  Only well cooked and balanced meals from now on," she said as her hands wandered under the cloth of his shirt and encountering nothing but his sinewy musculature. 

"Why?" he asked tilting his head to one side.

"Neither of us is getting any younger.  Face it, we're both middle aged, how many more times are you going to be able to get your body into this kind of shape?  For my part, I don't want to take any chances because I love what you've done with yourself," she said with a sensuous grin. 

Lifting an eyebrow at her obvious compliment, Jarod pinched the flesh on her hip, barely able to grab any and commented, "You, on the other hand, have gained a few pounds over the years."  At her widened eyes and slightly embarrassed demeanor, he continued, "Let me show you how much better I like you this way."  He started tickling her to make her laugh and kissing her at the same time.  Her laughter drowned out the sounds of the front door being opened.

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

A quiet omnipresent feeling of doom swirled around the atmosphere of the Centre like a violent riptide.  This dark ambiance was nothing new for the Centre's numerous employees; what was causing the slowly rising level of alarm was a persistent feeling of threat that hung like the Sword of Damocles over the heads of all the employees.  

Two mid-level managers had mysteriously disappeared in less than a month.  What alarmed all those who heard the story was that their homes had been cleared completely of all their belongings and all records of these managers' existence _outside_ the Centre had been erased.  All that was left were some bloody smears indicating the ultimate fate of the missing.  Now, this was the kind of thing Centre employees had heard of occurring to outsiders or to the foolhardy few insiders who forgot who was their employer.  For the experienced insiders, this would never happen without some obvious misdeed having occurred and definitely never without the rumor mill circulating news of the inevitable.  So the managers' disappearance was reason and cause for much uneasiness.    

Broots sat in the tech room oblivious to the nervous concerns of his subordinates and colleagues.  He absently ate an apple wedge his daughter had insisted over the telephone that he take for his lunch.  Busily typing away and searching the internet for more info on the murderous preacher who had a psychotic sideline of sacrificing a few of his followers to some obscure god.  Broots was so absorbed in his research that he missed noticing the arrival of a large package. 

Sydney had encouraged him to keep silent about the clue of the bloodstained choir robe that arrived with a note from Alex.  Sitting back in his seat, Broots shook his head incredulously.  By all accounts, Alex seemed to be on a mission, he had uncovered some pretty unsavory activities and plots—a few of which were on a par with Jarod's avenging.  A sudden thought hit Broots, as he recalled a few of Jarod's pretends had direct ties to the Centre.  With a sinking stomach, the gifted computer tech began searching through the Centre's files for the name of the depraved preacher, hoping he would find nothing. 

When Sydney walked into the tech room, all was quiet as approximately half a dozen computer techs went about their business.  A few cast Sydney apprehensive glances but no one said a word to him and most kept their eyes glued to their monitors.  Sydney walked up to Broots' area situated on an expansive dais and stood next to his friend.  Broots was muttering softly to himself as he continued to type feverishly. 

"You must go through keyboards on a fairly regular basis with all that typing." 

Practically jumping out of his skin, Broots turned in panic towards his friend, raising half out of his seat and placed a supporting hand on his desktop.  "Geez, Syd, you shouldn't go around sneaking up on people!  That's one trait that you definitely share with Miss Parker, although I'm sure she took a little sadistic pleasure in scaring me half to death," Broots admonished.   

"I apologize for frightening you.  Have you found anything on Alex's last clue?"  Sydney replied, ignoring the latter part of Broots' outburst.  He was happy that Jarod had found a way to get through to her but couldn't help but be a little miffed.  Unexpectedly, he found himself missing his caustic colleague more as each day went by, he hadn't realized it, but she filled a void in his life which now seemed impossible to fill.  

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bark at you, Sydney.  As capricious and moody as she usually was I still miss her a lot.  Now I just find myself hoping that she'll call and make some crazy, dangerous request or something." 

"Yes, I know how you feel, perhaps she will soon.  Right now, I was wondering about that robe Alex sent you," Sydney whispered as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Broots.  

"The robe he sent belonged to a murder victim named Susan Collins.  She was a member of a fringe Christian sect whose minister had the bizarre sideline of sacrificing some of his parishioners to an obscure South American god.  This whole case is beyond strange.  Apparently Alex was the mysterious stranger who exposed the minister for the brutal megalomaniac he was."

During the explanation, Sydney noticed the large parcel left on the corner of the desk and gingerly picked it up.  When Broots looked up, he noticed Sydney handling the package and looked at his friend inquisitively. 

"I found this sitting on the corner of your desk, any idea who could have sent it?" 

"No, I didn't even notice it.  I have to admit that I'm getting seriously sick and tired of receiving these clues from Alex," Broots stated apprehensively.  

"Let's open it, there isn't any point in sticking our heads in the sand." 

Broots had already retrieved a small knife, and slicing through the tape, he quickly opened the box and found an old-fashioned traffic light.  "I wonder what horrible crime Alex uncovered this time?"  Another note, this time type written under the letterhead of the city of Mobile, AL, was addressed to Broots. 

'We're both workhorses, Mr. Broots.  We are so good at what we do that our so-called superiors forget how invaluable we are to them.  Let's not remind them as the signal is about to give you the green light to leave.' 

"Oh great, is that a threat?  Do you think Simmons and Williamson got similar notes?" Broots whispered stridently. 

"No.  For some reason, it appears as though Alex is relating to you.  From his treatment here, I must confess that I'm a little surprised.  I would have thought that all empathy would have been burned free from his psyche but apparently not." 

"Oh, now I get it, " Broots said quietly as he stared at his friend. 

"What is it?" 

"Alex thinks if you and I left our absence would cause further disruption within the Centre, unfortunately I think he's overestimating _my _importance," Broots said slowly, while Sydney nodded with a look of admiration.

"Very good, Broots.  In this case, however, I wouldn't be so quick to believe that, Alex understands the Centre and the Triumvirate much better than we do.  So far Mr. Raines has been very quiet, too quiet.  I think some snooping around into his recent activities would be advantageous for the both of us.  I would hate to ignore a valid warning, even if it does come from Alex." 

**_Klouchi's residence _**

**_Dover, DE_**

The day had been productive and the Chairman, for once, was reasonable.  All in all he thought the plans that had been set into motion would be realized with a minimum of fuss.  He originally thought this posting had been given to him as a form of punishment, now Klouchi saw this situation as an opportunity.  The Triumvirate funded the Centre in large part; there was no reason why a member of that same body shouldn't also run it.

Klouchi smiled to himself as mental pictures of him successfully running the Centre on behalf of the Triumvirate danced through his head.  Klouchi was only dimly concerned about the suspicious nature of Mr. Simmons and Miss Williamson's disappearance since he assumed they had fallen victim to an ambitious plot hatched by the current Chairman.  It was probably another half-baked attempt to convince the Triumvirate that the Centre was under attack by a long dead pretender.  Alighting from his luxurious Mercedes-Benz, Klouchi strode confidently into his grand home located in an upscale neighborhood.  Once inside, he deactivated then reactivated his alarm system.  It was his habit to stay at home for the remainder of the night when he finally had a chance to come home.  After completing his usual nighttime rituals of shedding his expensive suit, donning silk, French-made lounging pajamas and turning on his new Bang & Olufsen stereo to hear the sounds of his favorite music waft sonorously throughout the house, he decided to get something to eat. 

He found everything as he expected when he entered the still darkened kitchen, so he was extremely surprised when he slipped in an unknown, slippery substance on the floor.  He landed comically on his back, badly injuring his tailbone in the process and receiving a nasty bump on the back of his head.  His loud groan halfway drowned out a soft giggle from the dark shadows of his swanky kitchen.  Klouchi strained to see if he were alone and called out a couple of times in his native tongue for the trickster to come out in the open.

The illusion of shadows moving disorientated the slightly concussed African, when emerging from the darkness the figure of a man became discernable. 

"Who are you and why are you in my house?" Klouchi inquired in English with groggy anger. 

"Your life is about to come to a sudden, violent end, Vice-Minister.  Unfortunately for you the time has come to send an authoritative message to the Triumvirate, something that cannot be brushed aside as the ramblings of an evil, old man who drags his bag of murderous wind on the wheels of a squeaky cart," the stranger intoned quietly in accent-less Algerian.  Klouchi noticed that the stranger used his correct title of office, instead of the Centre title of Vice-President of Foreign Affairs and Communications. 

"Before I die, I want to see the eyes of my murderer.  Who are you?" Klouchi repeated furiously.

"I'm the invention of your ambition, depravity and pride.  There will be no welcoming shouts from your misguided brethren in Allah's gardens.  No, there is a far more fitting place for the likes of you," the stranger stated as he stepped clear from the North African's grasp and circled around him noiselessly.  Alex bent over and swiftly lifted Klouchi's head and brought it down forcefully on the stylish, imported tile floor with a sickeningly wet, cracking noise as the skull gave way to the force applied.  Klouchi's body twitched reflexively several times then slowly came to rest as he died.  Alex squatted next to the body again and felt for a pulse.  When he found none, he carefully lifted the upper portion of the African's body and brought the head down at a plausible angle on the table and returned it to its original position.  When he was finished, Alex turned on the kitchen light using a remote device, stared down and mentally critiqued his handiwork.  He felt absolutely nothing as he examined his latest victim.  

It was several hours later when Alex left Klouchi's home.  In Seattle, he had become addicted to a daytime soap opera which he taped using the dead man's expensive equipment.  Since Klouchi was no longer in a position to protest, Alex, still wearing a baseball cap and hazmat approved overalls, had enjoyed the latest episode while eating a sandwich and drinking a cola.  He meticulously washed the dishes he used, replaced the can of Pam cooking spray he used to cause Klouchi's slippery fall, careful to avoid contaminating the crime scene and left undetected in a work van that advertised the name of a popular home heating oil company.                


	10. Hostile Environment Surprises & Loose e...

**Disclaimer:**  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements

**Author's note:  **For those of you interested, the name I chose for a certain character is Welsh in origin.  Enjoy

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 10**

**By Callisto**

They had been on the road for more than a week and were now long past considering themselves road-weary.  After dropping off their amenable passenger, a suggestion was made and a plan hastily formed.  They decided immediately to take a little detour from their established itinerary.  Once their destination finally came into view the tired group heaved a collective sigh of relief.  They hadn't anticipated the trip being quite so long or so draining. 

The driveway was very long, narrow and almost dark despite the sunny day, caused mainly by the friendly canopy of trees which bordered the lane on both sides, giving the impression of welcome rather than encroachment.  Soon a clearing appeared and they parked the sizeable sports utility vehicle next to a large barn.  There they unloaded their belongings and trudged what seemed like half a city block to the main house.  

They were surprised by the condition of the house and especially the surrounding yard area which was neat and well maintained.  The home was obviously still in the mist of receiving repairs since a neat pile of shingles had been stacked and left on the roof waiting to be nailed into place.  It looked as homey and comfortable as they each imagined.  

Slightly surprised by the unlocked door the travelers entered and were greeted by the unexpected sound of a woman's laughter.  Without a word being passed between them, the four sojourners wandered further into the home and quietly placed their heavy backpacks and duffels down in the entryway.  More delighted laughter came from the living room as the quartet walked quietly into the room, unsure of what they would find.  Surprisingly, there wasn't a soul in sight but the sounds of a man and woman softly murmuring and necking with an occasional pleasure-filled moan continued.  It was quickly ascertained that the sounds were coming from a couple lying on a newer looking leather couch.  Three of the intruders looked at each other with puzzled expressions, then turned to stare at the fourth, whose face displayed a sudden, knowing smile. 

"Hey, what's going on here?" the oldest of the group inquired in a stern and commanding voice.  His intent was to scare what he believed to be a couple of amorous teenagers who happened to find the home unattended and perfect for a late afternoon tryst. 

Shocked silence quickly enveloped the room.  Then slowly a close-cropped dark head peered over the back of the couch.  With rounded, widened eyes the man stared with incredulous bewilderment at the intruders.  His companion, whose curiosity was piqued by her lover's expression, propped herself on one elbow, placed a hand on the back of the couch and peeked over.  Confusion clouded her mind until her eyes settled on two familiar figures.  Softly muttering a mild oath, she settled back on the couch and closed her eyes, attempting to shut out the sight of her smirking brother and his bewildered father.   

"Dad, what are you guys doing here?" Jarod asked with thorough confusion. 

"Hey, Jarod.  Ethan's voices said you would be here, so we decided to drop by and surprise you.  Guess we accomplished that, eh?" Emil, Jarod's Centre manufactured clone, stated with a look of deep amusement.  He hadn't gotten a good look at his eldest brother's companion but did get the impression she was even prettier than Zoë.  

"Who the hell is _she_?  What's going on with Zoë, I thought you two were an item?"  Emily asked with disappointment clearly evident in her voice.  The fact they had just dropped Jarod's girlfriend off at her grandmother's new home disturbed Emily, especially since she liked the woman.     

The Major who, like Ethan, had gotten a clear look at Jarod's companion, answered for his oldest son.  "Her name is Miss Parker, she works for the Centre and is the same person who has been hunting your brother down for the past several years." 

"Great, how much further south can this situation go?  'Come along with me, we'll spend some time together, alone, without any interruptions.'  Per-fec-t."  Parker said in an annoyed, I-knew-this-wouldn't-last tone of voice.  

Poor Jarod, he was stuck between his shocked, confused and disappointed family on one side and his equally disappointed, quick-witted girlfriend who was lying underneath him.  Jarod, still in the position of an upright pushup, glanced between his family and his lover and finally irritation at both parties arranged his brows in a straight unhappy line over his eyes. 

"I'm glad to see you but you should have called instead of 'surprising' me," he said with quiet firmness to his family.  Looking down at his lover he said, "If I knew they were coming, I wouldn't have brought you here."  He effortlessly stood up, ignoring the tightness in his jeans and stared at his family.  Parker sat up on the couch, facing away from the intruders, still attempting to control and hide the admiring, desired-filled expression she knew was on her face. 

Several tense seconds passed, before Ethan decided to break the stand-off with addressing his older sister.  "Morwen, I've been wondering where you disappeared to, I've been trying to reach you for the past few weeks and was starting to worry.  Did you forget?" 

Having regained her composure, Parker stood up gracefully and straightening her clothing she smiled at her half-brother.  "I'm sorry, Ethan, I did forget.  My mind was on other things," she said warmly to her brother, referring to their twice-monthly habit of engaging in a lengthy instant messaging conversation over a heavily encrypted link Ethan established for them specifically.  With an affectionate grin, she moved around the couch and held out her arms, tentatively.  Ethan stepped into her embrace and wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezed her tightly and swung her around playfully. 

"Damn, I missed you.  It's great seeing you again; somehow just talking to you over the computer isn't enough.  I was planning on getting Jarod to help me break into your place in Blue Cove so I could visit," he said after releasing her.  Ethan held on to her hand and stared at her tenderly.    

"Tell you what, why don't we leave your older brother alone with the rest of his family, and all the accompanying explanations I'm sure they are going to demand of him, while we catch up out back," she said quietly, allowing her sympathy at Jarod's impending predicament show through in her words.

"Maybe we should stick around and help him out," Ethan whispered hesitantly.  He wanted to speak to his sister alone for a while but didn't feel it would be right to abandon Jarod.

"As you can tell, I'm about as popular around here as the taxman after a sudden financial windfall.  My presence will only exacerbate an already touchy subject.  Besides I have a feeling Jarod already has an idea of what he wants to say to his family," she replied, the brief, non-verbal communication between them confirming her accurate assessment.  "Keep me company while they talk," she asked invitingly. 

His sister's silent communication with his half-brother didn't escape Ethan.  He acquiesced immediately and they walked through the sliding glass doors towards the nearby lake. 

The remaining family watched the siblings walk down the path that led to the lake adjacent to the property.  Turning to his family, Jarod smiled at them and said, "It's good to see all of you, I only wish I had some warning.  It would have given me a chance to soften this blow.  To answer your question, Emily, Zoë and I have already had this discussion; she understands my reasons and motives.  She is the last person I would want to hurt, her friendship and regard mean a lot to me."

"And the Centre?  How can you be so sure this woman has left that life behind?  She has been trying to drag you back there for over 6 years.  Jarod, how can you even trust her?" Emily asked plaintively, unforeseen disillusionment lacing her words. 

"She's been a prisoner of the Centre almost as long as I have, I escaped sooner than she did.  There were pressures being brought to bear on her, pressures so unreasonable that I knew I stood at least a slim chance of getting her to leave.  I'm tired of all the secrets and lies we've been subjected to, by continuing to chase after them, we keep missing out on our own lives.  It's time for us all to start living."

"There is still someone caught up in those lies," she said softly. 

"I will never stop looking for our mother.  Right now, I believe a change in tactics will be more effective.  The Centre knows I'm trying to find her, I wouldn't put it pass them to have a trap already set up for me the second I get too close.  There are a few loose ends left to tie up before I completely let go and I already have some ideas on how to wrap up my involvement with the Centre.  Parker was a weakness I needed to shore up," Jarod explained.

"So _that_ was Miss Parker.  She's more beautiful than I remember but then it has been a few years.  She gave me the impression of someone stuck in a bad situation and desperately hanging on to what's decent.  I hope it works out between the two of you," Emil said with quiet but firm sincerity.  Without looking at his sister and father, Emil walked back to the entry hall and gathering up his belongings, he bounded upstairs to take claim of the bath before Emily could.

Expelling a deep sigh, Emily looked at Jarod with a mixture of embarrassment and renewed confidence.  "I'm sorry, I should have known that you would have thought this out thoroughly before acting.  I want you to be happy and if she's here and you're happy then there isn't anything more to be said."  She walked up to her brother, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.  As she released him, Emily kissed her brother's cheek and smiled at him with genuine affection.  Turning, she followed Emil upstairs. 

The room was silent for several seconds when Jarod finally looked into his father's eyes.  Expecting to find disappointment and hurt, he found only love and understanding.  Jarod gave his father a small smile and waited for his parent to make a comment.  

"I'm still in shock.  Every time I see her, it's like looking into a window of the past.  She's an exact replica of her mother.  Give me some time to adjust to this development.  Right now I'm tired and your little brother just commandeered the bathroom.  It's wonderful seeing you again, Son," the major said with gentle amusement.

Jarod answered with a relieved laugh and embraced his father.  "Use our bathroom.  As long as Emil doesn't take all the hot water, you should be able to enjoy a leisurely bath."

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

The news of Klouchi's's death reverberated through the halls of the Centre like a shark fin at mother's beach.  Suppositions and assumptions were now confirmed as facts.  The powerful Centre was under attack and the more powerful Triumvirate was not immune to the contagion.  Mr. Lyle was taking on a more active role in directing Centre security and curtailed any further travel vouchers and use of the private jet until further notice.  Sweepers were now required to accompany mid-level and higher managers home and to sweep their residences before allowing the potential targets to enter.  An unaccustomed air of siege was prevalent and for once it was being generated from someone outside of the corporation.   

Broots watched with wary cynicism as Mr. Raines quietly transferred large sums of Centre cash and commodities to off shore accounts.  A small but growing number of elite employees were being relocated to two sister branches of the Centre.  One in Australia and the other in a location Broots was still having trouble finding any information about.  He released a frustrated sigh as he thought about his former boss.  She would probably know where the second alternative site was located or would be able to direct his search. 

Fortunately, no more clues had arrived from Alex.  When Sydney heard this news a few days ago, he frowned pensively, then returned to his office.  Broots continued his surreptitious search through the computer as he continued to monitor Raines' actions.  It had been several days since Broots had last seen Sydney, with that in mind he decided a visit was long over due.  

A soft knock on the door, told Sydney it was time to set his thoughts in order and start acting on them immediately.  He had postponed acting on his own suppositions long enough.  Rising wearily, he opened the door to Broots and returned to his seat.  Broots followed Sydney inside and settled on the couch, stretching his body along the cushions, in the attitude of a patient. 

"It's starting.  Mr. Raines is already moving vast sums of Centre funds to the Australian branch and bifurcating the science and research divisions between two sites.  I haven't been able to figure out where the second branch is located but I suspect it's somewhere in Europe." 

"Interesting.  Alex has finally made an impression no one else with any power or ability has been able to do for decades.  I wish there were a quicker way to contact Jarod and let him know what's been going on here."  

"What do you think will happen to this place once the transfers are complete?" Broots asked as his curiosity forced him to sit up straight.

"Nothing much, I expect.  This has occurred once before when there was a fire on SL-27, one that originally shut down the sublevel, before my humble attempt to keep them from reactivating it.  There was so much damage and so many records destroyed that the scientific division was sent over to Australia for several months while repairs were being completed," Sydney replied. 

"What happened with Jarod and the other pretenders during that time?"

"The only permanent changes were imposed on a couple of the pretenders in the project.  From what I understood, they were heavily sedated and moved to Centre-Europe in England.  By the time they woke up, the transfer was complete and they were none the wiser.  All they were told was that their previous quarters were requisitioned for other uses.  They had no idea that they had spent several hours traveling and were no longer on the same continent," Sydney answered quietly.

"Centre-Europe is in England?  For some reason, I always thought it was in Germany.  How many more secrets does this place have?  Don't answer that, I don't think I want to know," Broots said hastily.  "Thanks for answering my first question, England must be where the research division is being set up." 

"Broot's I'm afraid we're running out of time.  I think it's time to try and contact Jarod and apprise him of the latest development."  At Broots' astonished expression, Sydney nodded solemnly and continued, "there is a way for me to contact him, I can only hope that he still monitors the account often enough to respond to my email."       

**_Alex's Lair_**

**_Annapolis, MD_**

In the close, darkened room the only sound that could be heard was the incessant rattle of the keyboard; the lone light source came from the glow of the computer monitor.  He had been at this computer for several hours without respite.  The lead he had gotten on Jarod proved to be another frustrating dead end.  The other pretender completely changed his tactics and habits to the point of melting into the populace like Alex's favorite lizard—the chameleon and while doing that Jarod seemed to have gotten a feel for how his competitor worked.  Something that was unavoidable the minute Jarod realized who was on his heels.  Alex absently wondered how Jarod had found out so quickly but it didn't make any difference now—there were ways, still available, to get the pretender and his moll to expose themselves willingly.  

Like Broots, Alex was monitoring the activity in and around the Centre and its subsidiaries, however he had certain advantages and disadvantages to his particular searches.  While easily acknowledged as an extremely talented pretender, his acumen with the computer fell short of Broots' natural talent, though his own competence kept him from falling into any traps.  Alex's advantage was his thorough understanding of the Centre, how it operated on all levels and the secret underpinnings of its purpose and goals. 

The revelation of the Chairman's attempt to retrench in an effort to recover from his unanticipated reduction in personnel was an interesting development.  This wasn't exactly the reaction Alex had been expecting; it appeared as though they were taking the threats he had been sending quite seriously.  His lips formed an unconscious, cynical curl as he read the raw data fed into his hard drive from the Centre's mainframe and annex network servers—courtesy of Klouchi's access codes which he immediately reconfigured after finding them in the African's home safe.

Centre-Australia would be next to impossible to breach.  It was located in a remote area of the country where the advantages were all on the side of the home team.  The design was ingenious and dreamt up by a pretender Alex would have found great satisfaction in killing on the spot.  It's main drawback was the remoteness of its location which tended to make those not used to living in the middle of nowhere more than a little stir crazy.  He would have to keep up the pressure once he arrived in England.  Centre-Europe's defenses were more easily countered and once there Alex would be able to find the codes he needed to gain access to the Triumvirate's African headquarters and Asian auxiliary branches.  Information Klouchi had wisely and inconveniently memorized.  The games were set to begin and all Alex had done was administer a light sting.  Catherine Parker's ashes must be rustling in indignation—her more destructive interruptions in Centre research and acquisition had barely registered the hiccup they deserved.   

A soft restraining band in his mind recalled him to some loose ends he still had dangling in this country.  His trip to Europe would have be postponed for a few weeks, there were a few more people left at the Centre's main headquarters who needed tending.  At least one of which was a certain Mr. Lyle.  Alex had a special bone to pick with him and would take great pleasure in reacquainting himself with that sick, Asian woman obsessed, shed sleeping, cannibalistic freak.  Alex had done some fairly horrific things in his time, but never did he eat the flesh of his victims.  A deranged smile now dominated his face as he thought about giving his former torturer a 'taste' of his own medicine—literally.  And then there will be only two left:  the lovely Miss Parker, who was more than ready to find out another shocking detail about her family and last but not least Jarod, who would find out definitively who was the better, smarter pretender. 


	11. Hostile Environment Plans & Schemes

Disclaimer:  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual precautionary blurbs.

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 11**

By Callisto 

**_Jarod's Lair_**

**_Green Lake, WI_**

Several days had passed since the abrupt and unexpected arrival of the rest of his family.  His sister continued to struggle with the reality of Jarod's commitment to the woman who had been chasing him for over 6 years but his father and brother were more indulgent, especially given the look that would suffuse Jarod's features whenever Parker was around.  Catching the lovers when they were unaware of being observed also assisted their easy-going attitude.  This occurred early on the morning following their arrival while Parker and Jarod were lounging on the dock after enjoying a swim.  Jarod was stretched out with his head in Parker's lap as she absently ran her fingers through his wet, thick short hair.  Jarod reached up, touched her face and in a sincere voice stated, "I'm in love with you."  She looked down, giving him a large grin and replied quietly, "You don't have to say it back to me.  I wanted you to know what you mean to me, no strings or obligatory responses—just the simple truth."

"Then accept my simple truth," he replied as she leaned over and kissed him.  Their observers tiptoed away stealthfully, careful not to disturb the lovers. 

Emily had not been privy to this display, therefore had nothing to compare her brother's behavior against.  While he had made it clear he had fun being with Zoë and cared deeply for her, that was nothing compared to his manners around Parker.

The Major and his daughter were lounging one evening in the living room talking when Jarod decided to join them.  They had been enjoying a relaxing conversation for over an hour when Parker entered the room.  She was fully cognizant of Emily's barely concealed wariness and not wanting to upset Jarod, although thoroughly weary of submitting herself to any further interrogations and biting her lip to keep her own caustic observations to herself, she paused for a few seconds, smiled at her lover then quickly ducked out of the sliding glass doors into the rear yard. 

Jarod stood when she entered and stared at her curiously for a few seconds.  It was clear they were able to communicate without speaking.  Emily watched the entire exchange with weary disbelief.  Jarod distractedly excused himself and followed Parker outside.

"Are you sure this is the same woman who's been chasing _him_ around?" Emily asked casting her brother a bemusedly amused look as he disappeared into the backyard.   

"Yep.  One in the same, that is the same beautiful woman who sneaked into my Centre cell demanding answers to some of the numerous lies she had been told a few years back," her father responded quietly. 

"It's amazing.  It happens every time she enters a room.   I swear if he had a tail it would wag happily whenever she showed up."

Laughing at Emily's rather accurate description of her oldest brother's behavior, the major replied, "She's just as bad.  I doubt many an hour has gone by without her having touched him in some way."  Sobering suddenly, he continued, "It would have been wonderful for their mothers to have seen this.  I don't think either one ever considered the possibility of this happening." 

"We'll find her, Dad.  I'm sure once the novelty begins to wear off, Jarod will return to his old self." 

"You don't like her much, do you?  Is it based primarily on her recent past?" 

"I'm sorry but I'm still having some difficulty buying this 360 degree change in her," Emily replied stubbornly. 

"Underneath it all, it's not that big of a transformation.  I saw her face when I told her my side of the story about her mother.  She couldn't shoot me in cold blood, despite all the lies she had been fed.  Also if you knew anything about Raines, just the thought of being his relative is enough to turn anyone's stomach and if memory serves, she doesn't have any more love of Raines than we do.  Less so since it was that monster who actually murdered her mother and stole Ethan," the Major countered, reminding Emily of the details Jarod had shared with them after having a lengthy conversation with Sydney almost a year ago. 

"With all that going on, then why did she continue to work for those people?" she asked becoming frustrated with her father's inescapable logic. 

"I know from experience, getting away from the Centre is harder than it looks, and I was only peripherally involved with them in the beginning.  Add to that the recent death of her slimy, good-for-nothing father, then the issue of her conversion becomes a bit clearer.  There is a lot of Catherine Parker in her daughter and I'm not talking about looks either," the Major answered softly, trying to keep his voice low so no one else could hear their conversation.

Reluctantly conceding, she gave her father an admiring look and affectionate grin.  "Now I know why we're all so smart.  It helps to have a father who's a combination Pericles and Dear Abby." 

Blushing his surprise at his daughter's heartfelt praise, the Major chuckled, shrugged and accepted Emily's peck on the cheek. 

Jarod was looking around the manicured, open rear yard when he decided suddenly to return for a windbreaker since there was a chill in the air.  Spotting his jacket draped over a patio chair near the open sliders, he quickly returned to retrieve it, just in time to overhear Emily's observation about how his tail would wag whenever Parker was in view.  He smiled at her comment and headed in the direction of the lake.

The moon's glow shimmered over the water giving it a surreal appearance.  He was about to look elsewhere when he noticed a shadow move.  Then he saw her, lying on the dock bench.  Smiling he approached her and thoughtfully covered her with his jacket. 

"Thank you.  I didn't mean for you to follow me out here, it wasn't my intention to drag you away from your father and sister."

"I know but you have something on your mind and I've always been curious about how that brain of yours works," he said affectionately. 

Rising from the bench, she put on his jacket and walked to the edge of the dock.  There she kicked off her shoes, sat on the edge and dangled her feet over the side.  She remained silent, organizing her thoughts while he settled next to her.  They remained silent for several seconds watching the moonbeams dance along the surface of the reflected water. 

"I care about you more than I have ever cared about anyone in my life," she began abruptly.  With a small chuckle she turned her gaze away from him and commented softly, "I was unaware I was still capable of this level of emotion, devotion or love.  I had long since given up hope; I thought Tommy was my last chance of even making an attempt.  However, I'm not surprised that it was you who drew it out of me." 

"Us being together is how it should have always been, it feels right, here," he said quietly, lightly tapping his chest and anticipating her train of thought. 

Realizing he knew where she was going with the conversation, she deftly switched tactics.  "I've been having some disturbing dreams, visions or whatever you want to call them.  This time they're about Lyle," she replied.  

"Lyle?  What about him?" he inquired in a tone that clearly asked, 'Who cares?'

"I can imagine how you feel, the thought of having that creep as a close relation was embarrassing enough but having Raines as a possible father made me immune to Lyle," she answered.  "The vision keeps showing Lyle walking out into a hallway, probably at the Centre, then suddenly an explosion from behind drops him to the ground.  Right after that, I hear my mother's voice telling me to save my twin's worthless ass."

"What do you think it means?" he asked curiously. 

"I thought these visions were subject to interpretation too, until I did nothing and saw one play out.  Jarod, the visions I have are predictions or scenes from the past, not clues to whatever may be going on in my subconscious.   One-note-wonder is about to do something stupid and land himself in trouble too deep to extricate himself and for some unknown reason, my mother thinks it's worth risking my life to keep him breathing." 

Her casually derisive nickname for her twin brother triggered a half smile out of Jarod for a second.  He didn't want her returning to the Centre but from watching Ethan he knew the vision or voices would continue to plague her until she was forced to act.  He understood now why she had taken the long trip around to give him the brush-off.

"If you're determined to return to try and save Lyle, then I'm going with you.  Give me a few days to check some things, find out what's going on there before we leave, I don't want any nasty surprises," Jarod replied as his mind shifted into high gear. 

"No.  There's no reason for both of us to risk our lives because of the visions I'm getting from my dead mother.  I don't want anything to happen to you, I don't know what I would do if something did.  You have no idea what you've done to me," she said warmly, tenderly caressing one side of his face with her hand, allowing his slight misinterpretation of her motives to go unchallenged. 

Turning his head to kiss her palm but never breaking eye contact he answered, "The same thing you've done to me.  I want to give us a chance, I believe we're going to work out better than even your voices predict."

Leaning forward, he kissed her deeply and insistently.  When lack of breath forced her away from him, he looked directly into her eyes and with a smile said, "Come on, I have a surprise to show you."  He assisted her to her feet and led her around the house and towards the long driveway.  

**_Sydney's residence _**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

They were seated in the rear yard which turned out to be quite a surprise for Broots.  The mid-afternoon light showed off superbly the small compact garden bursting with bushes and flowers.  Prominent in the mix were gardenias.  Broots said nothing but deduced that Miss Parker was the reason for the fragrant flowers.  He had suspected Sydney and Parker had grown close in the months following her mysterious trip to Scotland; now the evidence of their friendship was growing in Sydney's yard.

Broots relaxed completely against the comfortable patio chair he was seated in at the shaded table.  The yard and verdure enforced a feeling of peace and ease on any who was fortunate enough to sit awhile in its beauty.  Broots sorely missed his daughter who complained bitterly on the phone about being sent away but he still felt her absence was necessary for her own safety.  Eating alone emphasized his own loneliness, so when Syd suggested he come over for dinner, Broots jumped at the chance.  

Sydney finally wandered outside carrying a large pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.  He set the sweating pitcher down on the patio table and handed Broots a glass which he quickly filled.  Once he was settled in his own chair, Sydney began speaking.  "Thank you for accepting my invitation.  I thought with Debbie being away that you might be getting a little lonely." 

"You're right about missing my little girl, she gave me an earful last night about insisting that she stay in hiding.  Sydney, I had no idea you were a gardener, this is beautiful," Broots said admiringly.

"I had some considerable help from our former colleague.  It took us several weekends to accomplish this much.  The entire layout was her idea," Sydney replied softly.  "There is an ulterior motive for my invitation.  Broots, we have to leave—soon.  I don't see any reason for us staying and if I'm interpreting Raines and Lyle's reaction to Alex, it would stand to reason to believe that we will be the next ones dangling as bait, this time to draw him into a trap." 

Broots remained silent for several seconds then began nodding his agreement with Sydney's conclusions.  "I see your reasoning, the only problem is where are we going to run to?  I have Debbie to think about as well.  When I leave, I want to be as far away from this place and secure enough as possible, so that I don't have to worry about waking up one night with a sweeper on one side of my bed and creepy Lyle on the other."

"Yes, that's understandable.  Are you able to create fictional identities for all three of us?"  At Broots' eye rolling, 'of course' nod, Sydney continued, "Then I have some ideas on where we can settle.  I was thinking of Canada, Quebec possibly, there we would blend in easily and there are some smaller towns where, after we are settled, any strangers would be noticed in a heartbeat."

"I don't know if that's far enough away for my taste.  If your heart is set on Canada then how about British Columbia?  The distance alone would make me breathe a bit easier.  What about Jarod and Miss Parker, have you been able to get in touch with them?"  

"As a matter of fact, yes.  Jarod plans on returning to the Centre to complete some unfinished business.  He has asked for my help in fulfilling a promise he made to Miss Parker as a condition for her leaving with him," Sydney said, pausing as he took a long sip of lemonade.

"Well?  Don't just sit there drinking lemonade, what does he want?  Did he say anything about Miss Parker?  Is she alright?" 

"He says she's doing very well.  He thought she would have had more difficulty adjusting being away from the Centre but apparently not.  I'll need your help; apparently Miss Parker has finally made the ridiculously dangerous request you suspected she would.  She wants us to free Master Parker from the Centre's clutches," Sydney said firmly.

"What?!  We don't even know where the kid is, so how are we supposed to free him?" Broots exclaimed with a sinking stomach.  He was afraid Parker had probably passed on the child's address along with the request.  He shook his head with gloomy incredulity.  He missed his temperamental and sharply intelligent boss; hanging around her was usually challenging and exciting but too often dangerous.

Confirming Broots' suspicion, Sydney slid a folded piece of paper towards him, on which was written an address.  "I suggest we conduct some surveillance to learn the schedule he is on before we act.  However, it's imperative that when we are ready to remove the child, we are also ready to leave the Centre for good.  Tomorrow, I will take an early morning drive to Maryland to get a look and take some pictures of this address.  That should give you some time to get started on our new identities.  I am forced to agree with Alex that the time has arrived for us to leave," Sydney said grimly as he rose to check on their dinner.  

**_Jarod's Lair_**

Green Lake, WI 

Wind rustling through the trees and the noisy chattering of birds were the sounds which gently ushered him towards consciousness.  He had rarely enjoyed the feeling of peace and total freedom; momentarily liberated from his usual, omnipresent cloud of guilt and anger.  Guilt over how his naiveté had been exploited, his gifts misused and his contributions, offered with the best of intentions, corrupted beyond recognition; anger, over the loss of so much—mostly time with his family and those he loved, including the woman lying next to him.

What he was feeling now was different and new, something to be examined and explored at his leisure.  He exhaled a soft sigh of wonder and finally opened his eyes.  The upper loft of the barn looked different in the daylight, more utilitarian despite the colorfully elegant tapestries he used to cover the nearest walls.  Gone was the soft romantic light cast by the candles he had strategically set up around the futon he made for them.  The half drunk bottle of champagne had been left in the ice bucket, surrounded by tepid water.  Turning his head, his eyes finally settled on his companion, who was in turn staring at him, her gray gaze intense and unblinking.  His eyes were locked on hers and remained that way for several minutes as Jarod enjoyed the heightened intimacy with her.  Abruptly, she grinned at him, having read the expression in his eyes and softly chuckled as she rolled over onto her back.

"And I thought I was the horny one," she replied to his unstated comment.  "This was quite a surprise, it's absolutely lovely."  She sat up in bed and glanced around at the improvements and changes Jarod had quickly imposed on the space, making the loft into a romantic spot where they could escape and enjoy their privacy once again.     

"There are a few things I've been reluctant to share which you need to know.  I've been selfish, wanting all your time and attention.  However, since you're so intent on returning to the Centre, I'm forced to tell you what I know," he said softly.  He lightly brushed his fingers over her back, enjoying the silky-soft feel of her skin, tracing the faint outlines of her spine and ribs.  Sitting up next to her, he brought his hand up along her side and began running his hands through her thick hair, which he noted had already grown a bit longer since they arrived. 

She turned to face him, a curious look of weary irritation settled on her features.  Her expression indicated she was determined to remain silent until he decided to tell her what was on his mind.  From the look in her eyes, it was clear to him that she was aware of his omissions but trusted him enough to wait until he felt comfortable being more explicit.  Curiously, it was that particular expression as well as her entire demeanor which stopped him.  Averting his eyes, he didn't want her to know what he was thinking because his heart decided in that moment that he wanted her in his life—permanently.  He wasn't sure how long it would take to convince her but this was a goal he meant to achieve.  Coming to that decision, he purposely glanced at her leg peeking out from under the heavy comforter and allowed his growing desire to change the expression on his face, then glancing into her eyes again, he began telling her about Alex, the latest email from Sydney and his thoughts as to the reasons behind her mother's warnings.

Later that day, after spending several hours brainstorming and arguing, they finally came up with a plan they both could agree on, Parker responding to Jarod's request, returned to the main house for the purpose of making him and his father a quick lunch of sandwiches and lemonade.  Once the lovers had decided on a course of action, Jarod had approached his father to inform him of their plans.  The two men were now on the roof of the house nailing the last of the slats in place.

"Jarod, are you sure about all of this?  I can understand your passion for her—she's a very beautiful woman.  I suppose the truth of what's concerning me are her true motives.  That coupled with the idea of you returning to the Centre _with_ her is going too far in my opinion," the Major stated with quiet earnestness.

Jarod paused for several seconds while listening to his father then, efficiently nailed a slat into place, sparing no wasted motion.  Smiling inwardly, he decided to use a tactic that was reminiscent of Parker; he decided to answer his father obliquely.  "Do you know what I like most about her?"  Glancing at his father's concerned face, Jarod turned around and sat down next to him.  "I like working with her.  We can walk into almost any situation and know basically how the other will react.  In a strange way it's like an extension of our childhood, together we're equal parts of a well-oiled machine.  This morning I looked into her eyes and knew how she felt about the two of us and that her greatest fear is losing me.  After everything she's lost in her life, I know in my heart she wouldn't do what your thinking.  Call it a gut feeling and it would still be there if she looked like a troll." 

Sharing a laugh between them, the worry in the Major's eyes abated only slightly as he nodded distractedly at his son's comments.

Entering the house through the sliders, Parker had just opened the refrigerator when Emil called over to her. 

"Just the person I was thinking about, Miss Parker would you mind joining us for a minute?" 

Turning around warily, Parker couldn't hide the caution in her manner.  Holding on to the condiments she had gathered in her arms, she placed the sandwich fixings on the breakfast bar and looked up expectantly. 

"Jarod's birthday is coming up in a few weeks and we were hoping for your help in arranging a party for him, perhaps a surprise party," Emil continued undaunted.

"I think Jarod has had enough surprises to last him some time.  What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked quietly as she prepared the sandwiches.

"Well, I would like to have ice cream and cake.  Dad and Emily have agreed to decorate and bake the cake, Ethan and I are going to buy some presents," the young man said eagerly. 

"It sounds like you have everything already covered.  Where do you plan to have the party?" 

"We want to have it here, you both seem to like it so much.  I was hoping for your help in choosing a present for him.  Jarod is literally the guy who has just about every gadget on the market.  Perhaps we could pool our efforts," Ethan interjected smoothly.  The disappointed groans from the other two gave Parker the idea that her main role was to help the others choose a present for her lover.  Smiling at her half-brother's maneuvering, she replied, "Sure, I would love to go shopping for a present.  I think I might have a couple gift ideas."  The good-natured looks of defeated disappointment on the faces of the other two proved to be highly amusing. 

**_The Centre _**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

He sat at his massive, executive desk, angry, thwarted and determined with an air of a minor demon from a lower caste and level of hell never before imagined by man.  He pensively brooded about his next move, as though the results were already calibrated to bring him fresh frustration and embarrassment; something he was resolute never to experience again.  The two guards, a set of four who had been ordered to remain by his side at all times, stood motionless in the room like stone gargoyles, augmenting his demonic presence.  These guards were part of a special unit he formed shortly after the man currently threatening the Centre had incapacitated his brother.  Their skills rivaled that of any of the Triumvirate's personnel and Raines kept their existence strictly confidential.  In a display reminiscent of her old self, which proved to Raines he was the primary cause for her newly minted discernment; a bitingly, witty and accurate barb escaped Miss Parker's usually closed-mouthed lips and her sarcastic name for them stuck, thus the elite group were dubbed the Praetorians.

His new guards inspired an uneasy feeling of safety amongst the Centre's personnel.  They were far more intimidating than the usual sweepers and refused to interact with the other employees.  This was what Raines had wanted as he slowly rose from his seat.  The private jet was waiting for him on the Centre's private airstrip.  He knew Alex would be coming and had no intentions of hanging around to greet his deceased colleague's protégé.  'No,' he concluded silently.  'Alex will have to satisfy himself with Lyle and the rest of the pursuit team.'  Raines walked over to his private wall safe and removed several heavy, banded portfolios and relocked the aperture.  He stared balefully at the top binder; in it were the plans he had formulated with his brother for the final utilization of Miss Parker.  His cavalier attitude towards her loss was a ruse. The sweeper Miles had suffered a truly agonizing, lonely death despite Sydney's efforts.  Contingency plans had to be implemented and entire new ones had to be formed, while never losing sight of the old and the reacquisition of those people running loose who were thwarting him and the will of the Centre.  He waved absently to the pile and one of the muscular guards quickly gathered the heavy bundles easily and trailed his boss from the office towards the tarmac. 

**_Alex's Lair_**

**_Annapolis, MD_**  

The finishing touches were at last, complete as he gently tapped the mechanism.  Alex searched his room to make sure he left nothing behind; unlike Jarod he was by nature, disinclined to leave any connections or clues for potential pursuers.  Too often he had seen the messy results of those who toyed with the Triumvirate and lost in their game of chicken. 

An obnoxious bell sounded in the near distance causing Alex to rise to his feet, and stand to one side his window, looking out.  Throngs of children suddenly populated the schoolyard as the phalanx of cars and minivans lined the street waiting to pick up their charges.  His eyes scanned the yard and soon found his target.  The little boy watched with interest as his classmates laughed and capered around him without joining them.  Alex recognized the signs; the Centre was already experimenting with his mind and toying with his emotions.  The boy was of little interest to him but would serve one purpose before he would permanently remove the child from his masters. 

Quickly glancing at his watch, Alex knew he mustn't be late for his appointment with the Centre.  Alex looked at the boy again as a burly sweeper slowly walked up and led the child away.


	12. Revelations & Colours

Disclaimer:  Please see Chapter 1 for the usual precautionary blurb.

**Author's note:**  Wool gathering is a very old-fashioned term for wasting time.  I sincerely hope everyone who has taken the time to read this story has enjoyed it.

**Hostile Environment**

**Chapter 12**

**By Callisto**

**_Broots residence _**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

Broots led the way to his front door, talking almost non-stop to Sydney who was joining him for dinner.  The two men entered the home and both froze instantly, knowing something was wrong.  Broots had opened the door and reached over to key in the all clear code on his alarm when he noticed that not only had the alarm's warning not sounded but judging from the panel, it had already been disengaged.  Sydney, who had actually been listening to Broots, noted a delicious smell coming from somewhere in the house, after hearing Broots apologize for forgetting to defrost the shrimp he had brought two days ago for this occasion. 

Both men turned and stared at each other, then came the sounds of someone humming happily from the kitchen.  Broots finally noticing the smell knew what it meant but couldn't bring himself to believe it.  The smell was of roasted chicken, the one meal Debbie could cook to perfection.  With a watering mouth, he led the way to the kitchen to find his daughter contentedly washing lettuce for a salad.  Sensing she had company, the girl glanced over at the breakfast bar and spotted her father.  A happy grin lightened her face and dropping the head of lettuce in the sink, she impatiently shook her hands free of water and ran full force into Broots' arms. 

"Daddy, I missed you so much," she said into his chest, as she squeezed him with all her might. 

"I missed you too, but Debbie, what are you doing here?  How did you get home?" Broots asked, his anger at her disobeying him warring with his relief in seeing her again. 

"Hello, Sydney," Debbie said once she partially released her father. 

"Debbie, it's a pleasure to see you again," Sydney answered gently.  

"Hey, young lady, I want an answer to my question," Broots said as sternly as possible.  Tilting her head upwards to look in her face, he couldn't help but drop a kiss on her forehead.  

Smiling affectionately at her father, Debbie answered abruptly, "Miss Parker brought me home.  She wanted me to give you a package and a message." 

"Miss Parker was here?  When?  How long ago?" Broots insisted sparing a quick glance at Sydney's surprised face.  

"She left about an hour ago.  She told me to say that she misses both of you and wants us all to leave before things get any worse.  Then she gave me the package and said that she would be in touch in a few days, after that she and that cute guy she was with, left."

"Cute guy?  Did she introduce you to him?" Sydney asked.

"No, he didn't say anything either.  He just stood near the sliding glass windows and kept looking out, like he was expecting Freddy Krueger to sneak up to the door or something."  

"Debbie, can you describe the man?  I think we have an idea who it might have been," Broots asked gently.    

"Sure, Daddy.  He was tall, thin and had dark hair and he was dressed all in black.  Sort of a James Bond type only cuter and not so old, Miss Parker sure has excellent taste," the teen said with wistful admiration. 

"Sounds like Jarod.  How did Miss Parker act around him?  Was she nervous or angry?" asked an anxious Sydney.  

"No, why?  Is she in trouble or something?" Debbie asked as her father and Sydney's anxiety began to get through to her.  

"We don't believe she's in any trouble, sweetheart.  It's just we haven't seen Miss Parker in a few months and we're both worried about her," Broots soothed giving Sydney an irritated look.  "Honey, where is the package Miss Parker gave you?"  

Debbie finally released her father and walked over to the couch where she retrieved a small, thick bundle.  The girl handed over the package and watched with interest while her father carefully opened it.  Inside was a note and what appeared to be maps, a banded stack of money and a key.  Broots unfolded the note and began to read, while Debbie gingerly picked up the money and Sydney unfolded one of the maps.  

"Syd, it looks like she's already done all the work for us.  There's a detailed plan of how we're supposed to get the boy out, along with some traveling money, photos of the kid and maps with several escape routes highlighted.  The key is to a locker at a bus station in upstate New York that is supposed to contain clothes and ID's for all of us," Broots said with a note of awe in his voice.  

Chuckling lightly, Sydney sat down at the dining room table and took the note Broots was handing to him.  "It would seem they are working together on this project.  Apparently they have found a way to get passed their mutual hostility."  

"There's more, she wants us to scout out the location tomorrow and pick up the boy two days later, that doesn't give us much time.  Debbie, I need you to start packing immediately.  Take only the things you're sure you'll need, unfortunately we'll have to leave most of our mementos behind." 

"I understand, Miss Parker sort of prepared me for all that on the way home.  Can we eat first?  I'm kinda hungry right now," Debbie said laughingly as her father's stomach growled in agreement. 

With an answering smile, he nodded then gathered his daughter in another hug; truly happy she was with him again. 

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

Today was the day.  Alex smiled mirthlessly as he squirmed his way through the air ducts of the Centre towards his target.  He spotted the office in question and retrieved a miniature jamming device, aiming it at the cameras in the room.  The second the red LCD lights winked out, Alex opened the grate and dropped lithely into the office, humming an old Warner Brothers cartoon melody as he set to work. 

After arriving at the Centre at an unusually early hour and finishing a punishing workout in the gym, Lyle slowly showered and dressed for the start of the day.  He absently thought about his recently persistent bout of insomnia in which his personal demons refused to let him get a restful night's sleep.  With Raines gone, Lyle was in charge of the daily operations, which suited him just fine.  Only a skeleton crew remained since most of the key employees were already reassigned to either of the Centre's sister sites.  A deeply dissatisfied sigh escaped his lips as he sat heavily on the bench in front of his personal locker and ruminated over Raines' sudden urge to be in England.  

As Alex was dropping in on one of the offices in the Centre and Lyle was trying to figure out Raines, Jarod and Parker were entering the Centre's air ducts.  They had gotten only a few yards when Angelo suddenly met them.  The savant happily greeted his old friends, Jarod especially and whispered quietly, "Follow me, Son is here already."  Knowing that Angelo had his own unique way of expressing himself, Jarod glanced at Parker and followed his friend wordlessly.

Lyle walked briskly into his office, blissfully unaware that he had already had two visitors that morning, neither wishing to hang around for his arrival.  Everything in his office appeared, as it should, except for a small note on his desk.  Slowly he reached over and read the note; abruptly his head came up as he looked around his office suspiciously.  He was about to discard the note when he decided to glance at it again.  Finally, he recognized the handwriting and frowned at its message.  He casually walked out of his office door and into the hallway to see if the author was actually outside as asserted.  He glanced around and took several more steps into the main concourse area when a percussive blast knocked him off his feet, stunning him for several minutes.      

**_Kennedy Montessori _**

**_Annapolis, MD_**

Just as Lyle was getting the stuffing knocked out of him by the blast of a bomb, the trio arrived at the school.  All was quiet as they went through their respective parts.  The van was filled with their belongings, everything was set and ready to go.  Sydney decided to take an added precaution and parked about a block away from the school just in case the sweepers assigned to the boy were overly vigilant.  Unwittingly, he had parked directly in front of Alex's prior lair.  Sydney was the one designated to retrieve the boy, being a psychiatrist he would know how to handle the child and if any sweepers challenged him; he would be able to tell them he was there by order of the Triumvirate and show them his Centre ID along with its priority clearance.  Broots' role was to be the get away driver and back up if anything should go wrong.  Debbie was strictly told to remain in the van. 

When they arrived a few parents were already present, dropping their children off to school early.  The trio had only to wait another 30 minutes when a sleek Centre-issued black Towncar rolled up to the curb.  The young boy exited along with his sweeper who watched the child enter the schoolyard.  Sydney waited until the sweeper was satisfied and drove off before leaving the van and heading directly towards the child.

Like most plans, this one failed to go off without a wrinkle.  Sydney was only 20 yards away from the boy when he was suddenly stopped, first by a school official then by a sweeper, who appeared as if by magic to assist the worried teacher.  All was looking bleak, until unexpectedly, Debbie whispered to her father, "I have an idea."  Before her father could ask what she had in mind, Debbie grabbed a small jacket they had brought for the child and quickly hopped out of the van.  Broots yelled at his daughter to come back, fortunately an impatient parent started honking on a car horn for the slow-poke parent in front to get moving and thoroughly drowned out Broots.

Walking confidently in a manner assiduously copied from Miss Parker, Debbie crossed the street in front of the van, then crossed the busy road that fronted the school.  She entered the school grounds unchallenged, when the school official looked in her direction, she smiled sweetly and holding up the jacket, said, "My brother forgot his jacket."  The security guard nodded absently and returned to scowling at Sydney. 

Fortunately, Debbie had studied the photos of the boy Miss Parker supplied in the package.  She quickly spotted the child and jogged over, touching him lightly on the shoulder.  When he turned around and looked up at her, Debbie lost her heart to the pair of soulful, long lashed, violet eyes staring at her solemnly. 

Dropping into a squat, she said lightly, "Hey, you're probably going to need this to stay warm."  She cautiously looked over her shoulder and noticed the group at the playground entrance was growing larger.  Using her best babysitting voice she commanded, "come over here and I'll put it on for you."  She led the boy over towards the classrooms, then entered the main building.  Still being in school, she knew there must be a street exit.  Taking the boy's hand she continued to emulate her heroine by confidently leading the child out of the building and onto the street where her father, anticipating her intentions, met her.  Debbie gathered the boy in her arms and hugged him while he continued to stare at her questioningly.  Broots drove as quickly as he dared to a nearby coffee shop.  

"Debbie, take the boy and grab a booth.  Wait for us to get back, if I haven't come back for you in an hour, call this number and stay out of sight," Broots urged as he fished some money out of his wallet and handed his daughter $40.00. 

"Where are you going?" she asked worriedly. 

"I'm going back for Sydney.  That was a stupid thing for you to do," he answered sternly.  Then giving her a large, grateful grin he kissed her and said, "Good work, Honey.  I'm proud of you."   Broots got back into the van and returned to school, pondering about the lasting effects Miss Parker was having on his daughter. 

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE_**

The blast was muted and sounded louder than its effects.  Clouds of dust and debris from Lyle's office were everywhere partially obscuring visibility.  Alex emerged from dust and stood no more than 10 yards away from his revenge when another figure materialized through the murky air and stood directly in his path.  Alex paused for a moment, before recognizing his challenger. 

"What are you doing here, Jarod?"

"Stopping you from killing him," he replied.  Jarod was wearing his usual black leather coat and dark clothing, looking rested and very fit.   

"I see your emotions are getting in the way again.  You think by helping her save this miserable excuse for a human, you're gaining points with her?" Alex asked with deep disgust.

Smiling insolently, Jarod answered, "something like that."  

"Walk away Jarod, this isn't any business of yours.  Miss Parker is just going to have to chalk this one up as a loss.  Actually, I'm a bit surprised you're even here, are her charms wearing thin already?"

"Get out of here while you can Alex, this place will be crawling with sweepers in about 20 seconds," Jarod replied tightly.

"I have some unfinished business with him and if you hadn't have shown up, I would already be out of here with my little piece of garbage.  We'll have our moment, not to worry, I haven't forgotten about you."  

"I keep believing you've died and then you show up again, like a demented phoenix.  You've had your fun with the Centre, it's about time for the killings stop," Jarod said warily.  He watched Alex's every move, adrenaline pumping through every muscle.  

"Find your mother, yet?  Oh, yeah that's right, you've been otherwise occupied.  Did you ever consider that the Centre might have sent her to you just so they could delay your search?" Alex taunted.  The fleeting look in Jarod's face told Alex his barb found its mark. 

The sounds of people running and shouting were now reverberating throughout the halls.  "I've decided on a different tactic in the search for my mother.  I have the help of two of Catherine Parker's most talented children—they will help me find her and keep me out of traps like the one you've just stumbled into.  Time is running out on you Alex, leave before they capture you." 

"They want you as well.  Besides, I'm not leaving without my play toy.  I've suffered too many hours at his hand to let him slip through my fingers now.  Nothing's going to stop me, not even you, Jarod."  

Gunfire suddenly began to echo through the hallways as the dust continued to settle.  Shouts of the wounded calling out in pain quickly mounted in number while the sniper fire continued.  As more dust cleared and visibility returned to normal, both men noticed half a dozen sweepers writhing in pain on the floor.  As abruptly as the gunfire started it ceased.  Jarod slowly came to his feet, watching Alex cautiously as the other man followed suit.

"I can think of one thing that will stop you—her," he said jerking his head to one side behind him where Parker was perched with her sniper's rifle.  Alex looked up to see her aim was currently resting in his direction as he slowly brought his hands up in surrender.  Jarod pulled out his 9mm and trained it on Alex, allowing Parker to discard her weapon and join him on the main floor.  The two men remained quiet until she walked up; instead of joining them she walked over to Lyle, kicked him over onto his back and viciously slapped him across the face.  Both Alex and Jarod flinched reflexively at the sound and looked at what she was doing.  Lyle began to squirm at her ministrations as she bodily hauled him to his feet and relieved him of his pistol.  

"Wake up, stupid.  The next time someone sends you a note saying your life is in danger, don't hesitate," she said flatly.  She unexpectedly released her grip on his jacket lapels and he dropped to the ground gracelessly.

Finally coming to full consciousness, Lyle looked up at Parker and said woozily, "You saved my life." 

"Well, if that don't beat all," she answered sarcastically.  "Get up, I don't feel like holding you up."

Slowly, Lyle came to his feet and faced Parker.  They stared at each other for a second before she approached him purposely and stomped on his foot, causing him to yowl loudly and forcing his mind into a sharper focus. 

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I'm going to tell you something; this time listen," she said forcefully.  "That man over there, you remember, the one you tortured silly a year or two ago, wants to kill you.  I happened to get one of those visions you think are so hilarious, warning me this was going to happen, that's why we're here."  She was about to continue when she pulled her and Lyle's 9mm from her waistband and aiming at Alex, shot the Praetorian guard sneaking up behind him and the other who took up residence in her sniper's position, killing both simultaneously.  

She looked violently magnificent; her beauty unmarred and strangely enhanced by her actions.  Her face remained calm and focused framed artfully by her longer than usual mane.  Her electric blue silk blouse clung to her slim frame in all the right places and her black wool slacks were impeccable, hugging a figure free of any extraneous bulges.  All three men stared at her in awe, two of them with varying degrees of desire.  Parker caught the amorously admiring expression on Jarod's face and smiled faintly. 

"Wounding Raines' palace guards is useless, they're not your usual sweeper," she explained to Jarod.  "Lyle, I'm giving you a 30 minute head start.  Leave now while you can and I suggest you try to stay a step ahead of him.  You're not a pretender but I know you're a survivor.  Keep in mind, you want to stay far away from a man who has seen the movie 'Hannibal' too many times." 

"Why don't you just kill him?  He tried to kill you and our father!" Lyle demanded angrily, blanching at her reference.  

Cocking her head to one side she stared at him pensively and said quietly, "You've tried to kill me more than once Lyle, but here I am still helping you out.  This is the last time I'll ever see you, try to leave with at least a shred of dignity."

While Parker was speaking to Lyle, Jarod and Alex listened for several seconds then returned to staring at one another.  Alex noted that Jarod had unconsciously lowered his weapon and stared at his nemesis hungrily.  Just as Alex was leaning to take a step towards Jarod who had turned his eyes once again on Parker, she spoke to him in a loud voice.

"_He_ may not want to hurt you but _I_ will.  Touch him and your dead," she said evenly, her gaze settling on Alex who froze at the sound of her voice.  Everything about her testified to her sincerity and after her latest display, Alex had no illusions about her willingness to shoot him.  He backed away several paces from Jarod watching her gun move along with him in spite of the fact she returned her gaze to Lyle.

Parker turned to Lyle and irritation creased her features.  "Why are you still here?" she asked with barely controlled fury.

Lyle stared at her for several more seconds, burning into his memory the way this obscenely beautiful woman looked.  He nodded slowly, then hesitantly walked down the corridor, carefully stepping over bits of his destroyed office.  The only sounds were of his rapidly receding footsteps as he quickened his pace.  

**_Blue Note Diner_**

**_Ellsworth, RI_**

The intrepid threesome was sitting in a diner after spending several hours on the road.  Broots had rescued Sydney from the clutches of the school administrators, begging their pardon, claiming Sydney was suffering from Alzheimer's syndrome.  

Noticing the sweepers not buying that story and at least one of them recognizing the vaunted psychiatrist, Sydney started rambling on about how much better it all was and how he wanted the children to all go to the Renewal Wing just as he had.  Broots quickly catching on eyed one of the sweepers and whispered, "Just released from the Renewal Wing by order of Mr. Raines.  He's harmless now."  The sweeper nodded his understanding and allowed the men to leave.

Smiling sadly, Sydney looked at Broots and his daughter and said firmly, "Quick thinking and wits obviously run in the family.  Thank you Broots, for saving my hide." 

"No problem, Sydney.  Sorry about that crack about you being an Alzheimer's patient.  It was the first thing I could think of to get them to let you go."

"That's quite alright, Broots.  Our young charge seems to be quite exhausted from all the excitement.  I'm sure the change in routine was traumatic regardless of its necessity," Sydney replied watching the little boy slip further into unconsciousness against Debbie's arm. 

"You would do anything for Miss Parker.  Why?  I know my father will because he has a crush on her but why you?"  Debbie asked ignoring Broots' distressed stare. 

"I suppose it would be only right to tell you both since we're all free from the Centre's clutches.  I believe Miss Parker is actually my niece.  I've had this suspicion for a number of years but never voiced it," Sydney replied quietly, smiling at the shock-slackened look on Broots' face.  "My brother Jacob had been having an affair with Catherine Parker for a number of years.  Miss Parker was born a few years before my brother was injured in the car accident.  Catherine was greatly distressed, more so than would be expected from a mere friend.  That's when my suspicions began to take root." 

"She can't be your niece, Sydney.  The blood tests we ran on her showed she was most likely Raines' daughter, especially since Mr. Parker was impotent," Broots countered. 

"The blood tests we ran were done by a lab controlled by the Centre.  Just about every lab within a 100-mile radius has some ties to the Centre because of the NuGenisis project.  It was imperative for Miss Parker to continue believing that Mr. Parker was her father.  If she began to believe differently, her life would have been in danger.  I'm certain that Raines would have her locked up the second she even hinted about her knowledge and you know as well as I, Broots that she wouldn't have kept silent." 

"Angelo was right, you do know all the secrets and lies.  He told me and Miss Parker that back at Raines' forest house.  Sydney she has a right to know, you should have told her," Broots said, failing to hide his disappointment.  

"I also have a duty to my family of which Miss Parker happens to be a member.  Her safety is paramount to me; I will and never would do anything to jeopardize her," the older man replied stubbornly.

"Alright, Sydney.  What about this little fellow, who's his family?" Broots asked nodding towards the child.  

"His name is Patrick and we're his family now, Daddy.  If we try to find his real parents they will probably turn him back over to the Centre," Debbie said quietly, running her fingers through the boy's soft hair. 

"Regrettably, we have no idea who his real parents are, therefore I believe you're correct, we are his family for now," Sydney replied thoughtfully.  

**_The Centre_**

**_Blue Cove, DE  _**

Parker turned towards Alex and Jarod and walked over to them.  As she got closer, she stared at Alex with a disturbing intensity.

"Don't worry, sister, I haven't budged an inch," Alex said lightly in his best Bogart imitation. 

Parker's unwavering gaze began to make him a bit nervous, so Alex allowed his cocky smile to fade and returned her gaze.   "Interesting turn of phrase, it's good to meet you at last, little brother.  The first time we met I was unaware of our connection," she said softly. 

Jarod's recently budding suspicions were now confirmed, as his eyes shifted from one to the other.  Watching Alex, he saw the sociopath clinch his jaw but otherwise remained quiet.  If she were wrong, Alex would have corrected her immediately.  Jarod remained mute waiting for the next revelation. 

"I bet you're wondering how I found out.  Rest assured it was our mother who told me, when she kept showing me this debacle over and over again.  She would tell me to save my brother from being _caught_.  I didn't understand and would have done nothing, until she showed me you, planting the bomb."

"Hello, Morwen.  I was beginning to believe you would never figure it out.  Hanging around genius here has been making your brains go soft.  Oh, yes.  The emergence of your 'inner sense' seems to have finally occurred.  The one thing we have in common, burned into our brains after all our mother's mistakes, concentrate on those in your world first." 

"What about that family of four who was murdered?   You said they were your family and you killed them so they couldn't be used against you," Jarod asked angrily, he was thoroughly tired of Alex and his careful prevarications. 

"Misdirection and lies, as long as the Centre and Triumvirate thought your family was dead then disbelief in the truth would be credible.  Jarod, my little brother in his very twisted way was trying to protect me.  He took credit for another murderer's crime.  But that wouldn't have been good enough because he was still jealous of you," Parker replied morosely.

"Look at him, he still doesn't get it and they said he was smarter than me.  Geez, my beauty queen twin is quicker on the uptake than you, Genius," Alex spouted angrily at the deepening confusion on Jarod's face.  "I bet you swallowed that 'latent pretender gene' crap I planted in her file too."   

"Your jealousy is all tangled up with the sputum they drilled in your head.  You swallowed their lies like pabulum and let it twist you into unrecognizable knots.  To make things worse, you're pissed off because I fell in love with Jarod when I was eleven, your so-called competition.  Did they show you an old DSA of us playing together to get you all riled up?  God, I never thought I could hate a place so thoroughly as I do now.  They took my twin from me, then my mother and little brother, hell I still have no idea who our father is, do you?" she asked almost tearfully. 

Her sudden emotion made Alex lower his hands and shaking his head 'no', told his twin the last lie he had left.  He suspected their uncle would finally break his silence but it was him who should do it, not Alex.  She was finally building a relationship with Sydney, he knew because he had kept tabs on her while Jarod was wool-gathering as a cross-country coach in Nebraska.  He stared at his sibling emotionlessly.

Watching her brother's eyes, she saw his lie and the truth of their relationship in him.  There was none of the barely hidden lust that was typically present in Lyle and with the awakening of her gift she felt the connections she had to this sadly twisted and tortured soul.  

A loud warning klaxon suddenly began wailing throughout the complex.  Jarod had the quickest reactions, grabbing Parker's hand and pulling her down the corridor in the direction opposite from which Lyle took.  He ran without hesitation, down one corridor then turning abruptly and speeding down the next until he reached an unmarked door in which he entered.  He raced to the air duct grate which was pushed aside by an anxious Angelo, impatiently waving to them to enter and follow him.  When Angelo noticed Alex replacing the grate he turned and led the group down a dizzying array of tunnels eventually leading to another room.  Angelo keyed in the code and the door opened with a weary groan.  He stepped aside as the other three hurried out of the room.  Jarod and Parker turned to see Angelo resolutely close the door behind them and the locks reengaged.

The refugees raced towards the trees and waited there for a few minutes respite.  The three continued their mutual vigilance, Jarod and Alex returned to watching each other warily.  Parker also was staring at her twin while the whispers in her mind started talking.  Abruptly she stepped up to her brother and embraced him, shocking him still.  When she released him she lifted Lyle's weapon from her waistband and handed it to him.

"We have a party to attend, so we don't have much time.  I hope you're able to bring this place to its knees one day and perhaps avenge our mother's death.  In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble?  I don't want to have anymore messages from our mother," she said with a small smile.

Slowly Alex took the 9mm from her fingers and tested its weight in his hand.  Jarod was alarmed by this turn of events but said nothing.  

"I have a question for you Jarod, how did you find out it was me on your trail so quickly?"

Jarod looked at Alex and answered, "I usually tape the end of my pretends as evidence for the police to take action.  The person taping Gareth had left his camera running just in case I came back.  Instead of catching me, he caught you killing Gareth."

Alex gave Jarod a cocky smirk and said, "He got what was coming to him, which was better than what he was dishing out to his wife.  Take care of my sister, Genius.  If you don't, I'll come back for you and that's a promise."  He then ran through the copse, poised to cross the road and disappear from their lives when he turned unexpectedly and stared at them.  He was astonished when as he stared at his twin he could discern a deep, blue resonance in his mind—a thick swatch of brilliant color amidst the background of dull gray.  This was the first time in over 25 years his inner life ever held a depth beyond his own training.  He smiled glad for the second chance he was just handed and the thought of dropping in on them unexpectedly as he plunged across the street and disappeared.

Parker and Jarod watched him turn, grin then run off happily.  Jarod still had a bevy of questions in his mind as he lost sight of Alex through the trees.  He felt Parker become restless next to him as he looked at her. 

"What's wrong?" 

"You knew he was my twin," she replied calmly.

"I never discount the clues Angelo gives.  He refers to you as 'Daughter'; Son, had to be your twin, someone other than Lyle, since he never used that reference with him," he explained quietly.  Looking at her he accused, "You weren't truthful with me." 

"No, I wasn't.  There wasn't any need for you to know that Alex was my twin.  I hadn't planned on you coming with me, I honestly thought your family's suspicions of my motives would win out." 

"I'm tired of secrets and lies.  I won't conceal anything from you from now on if you agree to the same," Jarod asked cautiously.  He could feel that she was at another crossroad in her life and wanted her to join him willingly. 

"Agreed.  Are you sure you still want me around?  My family tree just received another strange twist.  With my background, having Alex as my twin is slightly better than having Lyle.  At least my twin hasn't eaten anyone lately," she said with quiet sarcasm.  

"I have another question:  Why didn't you tell Lyle that he wasn't your twin?"

"What's the point?  He's still the sad-sack loser he was when he woke up this morning.  Now he has one of his failed projects hot on his heels, thirsty for revenge.  I'm the least of his worries." 

"How far do you think your house is from here?" he asked abruptly, already knowing the answer.

"About 10 miles, I know because a certain genius decided to take my car home while I was still at work, forcing me to walk home.  Not exactly your finest hour," she replied wryly. 

"You walked?  Why didn't you take one of the Towncars or have Sydney or Broots take you home?" he asked happy that she hadn't forced him to answer her question because he intended to do everything in his power to keep their relationship on a steady course towards the engagement ring he had already brought for her.   

"Sydney had a date and Broots was doing something with Debbie.  I was stuck and too proud to let my father know what happened by having a sweeper take me so, I put on my gym clothes and jogged home."

"Humm.  Proud and stubborn, that's you all right.  Come on, let's go to your house and get something to eat, I'm starving."  

Rolling her eyes, she looked at him and said, "My house is probably crawling with bugs and sweepers."

"I've been able to get into your house for years without anyone knowing.  Today is hardly any different," he said easily with a smirk in his voice.  He had taken her arm and was guiding her up the street where his car was parked.  "Got any junk food?"   

"No.  You agreed to stay away from that awful stuff," she said staring at him accusingly.  

"Well, what difference does it make now?  You seem intent on dumping me, why should I care what I look like?" he replied, trying to keep a straight face after seeing the horrified look on hers.    

Noticing that he was struggling to keep from laughing she punched his flat stomach.  "Here I am, giving you a perfect out, your freedom on a platter and you make fun of me.  Most men would jump at the chance," she muttered angrily.

"As we both know, I'm not like most men, however, I would love the chance to jump on you," he whispered sexily.

Laughing delightedly she leaned into his body and wrapped an arm around his waist.  "We really do have a party to get to, so how about we skip going to my place and eat at a restaurant on the way?" she said as she looked up into his face with a contented smile.  

"Only if I can have some ice cream for dessert.  You're turning into Attila the Hun about my diet.  Besides, Emily will probably bake a sugar-free birthday cake that tastes like cardboard," he whined petulantly, unconsciously charming her all the more.  

"Now, you promised to act surprised when they spring this on you.  They're going to be very angry that I didn't keep my mouth shut." 

"I'm a pretender, acting surprised will be a piece of cake, tastier than what Emily has in mind." 

Bursting out in laughter again, she turned to him and stated, "Alright you big baby, we'll stop at a bakery and buy you a proper cake," she conceded generously. 

Jarod, started the car up and sped off down the road, and continued for over an hour taking a confusion of interstate highways and back roads out of Delaware, eventually winding up in a neighboring state.  He pulled into a darkened lane along a heavily forested side of the highway and stopped the car.  Staring at his companion, he grinned wolfishly.  "My tail is wagging again," he commented huskily.  Returning his smile with a large lustful grin of her own, she followed him into the back seat where they spent another hour fogging up the windows and making the vehicle sway rhythmically. 

~Fin~  Yeah, this is the way it ends, like a messy little kid eating cookies, just like real life!


	13. Epilogue Same old road

**Disclaimer:  **Please see Chapter 1 for the usual statements. 

**Author's note:  **I would like to acknowledge and thank all those who reviewed this story.  Your suggestions and comments helped create this.  

**Hostile Environment**

**Epilogue**

**By Callisto**

They had been driving together for over two days and established a comfortable rhythm of conversation.  Ethan and his father had met the couple in Charleston, a location Jarod had finally agreed to after the Major threatened to follow them all the way to the Centre.  The Major couldn't help but feel nervous about the meeting; he still felt Jarod was taking an unnecessary risk returning to the Centre with his former huntress.  However, once they arrived at the secluded location and walked up, the two men were greeted with a sight much different than what the Major had expected.  Leaning against the old Pontiac they had used for their getaway, Jarod and Parker were deeply involved in a kiss that seemed to go on forever.  

Smiling broadly, Ethan lightly touched his father's arm to stop him.  The Major glanced at Ethan who was grinning at his half siblings.  Both men stood for several seconds watching when finally the Major lost patience before Parker ran out of breath.  He approached them, stood several feet away and said quietly, "I'm probably going out on a limb here but I would guess from your behavior that everything went according to plan?"

Parker pulled away from Jarod and looked at Major without saying anything.  Jarod leaned over and swiftly finished kissing his lover then turned to greet his father.  "Pretty much, I learned a few things along the way as well. We should get going, it's getting a little late and we need to return this car to Rodney's before heading back," he said casually, referring to his used car salesman friend who had loaned them the car.

The return trip had turned out to be very enjoyable which surprised the Major.  He was starting to truly like Miss Parker; something he knew would irritate his daughter.  From his behavior, the Major knew what Jarod had in mind for Parker.  At first he was alarmed, worried that his son would be disappointed at least, hurt at most.  Her attitude remained steady but from watching her more closely and looking for signs other than those of possible betrayal, the Major could detect subtle indications of her genuine affection for Jarod.

The group had taken a circuitous route back to the Wisconsin lair and was back on the interstate in Iowa after stopping awhile in Cedar Rapids for some shopping.  The Major was listening to Ethan tell a rather amusing story of a joke Emil had pulled off on Emily when the lights of a cruiser began flashing in the rearview mirror.  Glancing quickly down at his speedometer, he noticed that he had indeed allowed his speed to creep over 80mph.  He pulled smoothly over to the side of the road and waited patiently for the lone trooper to approach with his ticket book out.

"Dad?"  Jarod asked from the backseat. 

"Yeah, I was speeding, sorry about this, it should only take a minute," he said followed by a deep sigh of self-disgust.  He completely misinterpreted the low groan that came out of Parker. 

The trooper was being extremely cautious and ordered everyone out of the Range Rover.  The Major was put out by this display of power and absently signed the ticket book offered.  When he glanced up to hand the ticket back to the trooper, he found the man staring strangely at Jarod and Parker. 

"Is there something wrong, officer?"

Retrieving his ticket book the trooper watched the group warily and ordered the Major to stand by the others.  With his hand hovering nervously over his revolver, his vigilant eyes returned to Jarod and Parker once again.  Moistening his lips, he frowned thoughtfully at the couple. 

"Sir, would you mind saying something?  And Ma'am remove your sunglasses," he ordered firmly but politely.  Silence enveloped the group as Jarod assessed the nervousness of the trooper. 

"What would you like me to say?" he inquired while Parker slowly pulled her shades halfway down her nose, revealing her eyes. 

"Well, I'll be damned, I must be living right," the trooper said with a disbelieving chuckle.  "It's you.  You're the couple on the video.  There's no use denying it, I've watched the dash-cam recording at least a thousand times.  I would know your voices anywhere."

"Trooper, what's going on here?  Is there a problem?" the Major asked trying to divert the officer's attention. 

"The trouble started at least 4 months ago," he started as he relaxed his posture and took a few cautious steps towards the family.  "That's when these two saved the hides of two troopers.  It's the best luck in the world I ran into you but I thought you drove a Land Rover." 

Pausing for several seconds, the trooper smiled broadly, understanding the couple wasn't going to admit to anything.  His admiration grew in leaps and bounds as he realized that they must have been aware of the recording devices attached to the uniform. 

Approaching Jarod slowly he said in a calming voice, "Relax, I just wanted to shake your hand and say 'thanks'; Trooper Stubbs is my brother-in-law and was on his last week of training.  My sister was 9 months pregnant when he was hijacked.  His only excuse for being blindsided is that he was waiting for a call to run to the hospital.  While he was in that trunk, he was sure he would never live to see his daughter." 

Jarod smiled quizzically and shook the man's hand, offering his congratulations while the trooper insisted on shaking Parker's hand as well.  "I'm glad your brother-in-law is alright.  What happened to the people who hijacked him?" 

The smile suddenly faded from the trooper's face, replaced by vengeful anger. "I did some research on those two clowns.  There isn't a doubt in anyone's mind that once they were done, raping and robbing motorists, they would have killed my brother and his partner.  Right now they are being indicted with at least half a dozen charges, including the attempted sexual assault on you Ma'am."  The trooper replied.  Noticing Parker's slightly furrowed brow, he continued, "It doesn't matter that you stopped Dicenzo from raping you by kicking his ass and breaking both his knee caps.  The fact that he tried on you what he had done to at least 3 other women successfully, suffices. Terry is going to flip when I tell him that I met the good Samaritans who saved him, it'll make his day." 

"And you think by just hearing our voices that we were involved?" Parker asked softly. 

"Yeah, you also have the same coordinated timing as you did in the video.  The second he started speaking; you pulled down your shades.  While I watched the videotape of you two in action, I kept thinking perhaps you were working for either 'Special Forces' or one of those secret government organizations, which one is it?" 

Parker removed her sunglasses completely and gave the trooper a cynically incredulous look causing him to laugh appreciatively.  Abruptly, he turned to the Major and demanded the return of the ticket.  

"You won't be getting any tickets from me or anyone else while I'm out here.  If you ever need anything, call me," he said as he removed his business card from his uniform pocket and handed it over in exchange for the ticket.  Shaking his head in disbelief he said with amusement, "Terry will never believe it when I tell him one of his saviors is a drop-dead gorgeous lady.  Oh, wait a minute, what am I thinking?  I should have let you keep that ticket.  My niece now has the stupidest name—they call her 'Spencer' after your pseudonym.  The two of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves," he said with mock anger and received answering laughter from all four travelers as he walked back to his cruiser with a large, happy grin on his face. 


End file.
